


Someone Old, Something New

by matchamarimo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Attempt at Humor, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, M/M, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Minor Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Mostly Canon Compliant, Slow Burn, some light yamayachi too!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:36:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23218612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchamarimo/pseuds/matchamarimo
Summary: When his mom told him about his cousin's wedding at the start of the year with an emphasis onplease, please, please bring anactualdate to the event instead of your disastrous, famous, volleyball-playing friends, Kei thought he'd have plenty of time to find someone to go with him.But now, with the wedding right around the corner and both Tobio and Shoyou out of consideration as his usual go-to dates (was it because they literally clear out buffet tables with their monster appetites? Or is it because they're famous and his family has caught on that those two are actually dating each other?), snagging an appropriate partner for the event is looming like a metaphorical storm cloud over his head.Enter one Kuroo Tetsurou, back in town after working overseas for the last two years, older and hotter than ever before, and somehow the answer to all of Kei's problems.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 204
Kudos: 992





	1. Tsukishima Kei Needs A Wedding Date

**Author's Note:**

> Had a temporary break from kurotsukki content, but here I am! Today, I offer you slow burn, friends-to-lovers kurotsukki. Tomorrow, who knows? :3c
> 
> This fic is not exactly spoiler-y, but it does take place post-timeskip and incorporates events after Chapter 370. I started writing this story around the time Chapter 382 came out (Furudate, please give us Kuroo deets!! It's been too long!!)
> 
> I will, like my kyouhaba fic, try my best to update weekly (since I have actual time to write now lol)  
> the rating will change in later chapters!
> 
> enjoy!

His phone pings cheerfully at him as he's throwing his jacket on and stuffing the last of his smelly sports gear into his laundry bag. He figures it's Tadashi, who probably wants to get food again, or Akiteru, who also probably wants to get food too. Hell, he was even expecting Tobio, who sometimes hits him up after practice to study game tapes together and swap recipes for weird protein shakes.

But it's neither of the above, because it's his mom who messaged him, and it's those nine terrible words that instantly ruin his night.

**_Mom 9:16pm_ **

_Hi honey!_

_Have you found a date for the wedding yet?_

* * *

"What's the big idea?" Tadashi laughs. "Ask Shoyou or Tobio like you always do, they'll do anything for free food."

"I can't," Kei groans, pushing his hair out of his forehead. The ambient noise of the izakaya drones on in the background, adding to the light buzz in Kei's head after their fourth round of drinks. "My mom banned me from asking them again. She said they're too famous. Everyone's caught on to the fact that they're actually dating each other and not me. Also, they eat too much. I'm talking about actually emptying the buffet tables levels of too much."

As Tadashi wheezes into his rum and coke, Hitoka offers him a sympathetic smile. "That's to be expected, I guess. I heard professional volleyball players can burn through about 8.4 calories per minute of vigorous play."

"Yeah, but they're actual monsters. Even I don't eat that much."

"You never eat enough, Kei."

"Besides the point," Kei huffs, taking a lengthy gulp of his drink. "Anyway, if I don't bring anyone to the wedding, my mom will literally never forgive me. The mother of the bride is that one cousin of hers that she's had beef with for ages."

"Ah," Tadashi grimaces. "The one who insisted your grandma's chicken bone broth recipe should've gone to her instead. Bloody."

" _That's_ a cause for a feud in your family?" Hitoka asks, eyebrows raised.

"The Shindo side of his family takes anything recipe-related to extraordinary extremes," Tadashi informs her wisely, privy to way too much of Kei's family drama after years of friendship. Well, he _had_ been present for the Great Macaroon Meltdown of 2016.

"She's convinced that everyone will call me a homewrecker if I bring either one of the idiot duo," Kei grumbles. "Especially now that they're mushy together in public and all. And she wants me to bring someone respectable, so she can rub it in my aunt's face too."

"What about Akaashi-san?" Hitoka asks. "He's on loan at the Fukushima branch till the end of the year, isn't he? That’s nearby, and he’s working for a publication company."

"I thought about it, but Bokuto will cry if he agrees and I refuse to be the one who tanks the Black Jackals' winning streak. Also, Akaashi only gets about, like, four hours of sleep nowadays, I don't want to add on to his stress levels."

"...oh."

"Hmm... Suga-senpai?"

"He's worked around kids for too long, the other day I heard him say goodbye to the bus when he got off. Also, Sawamura's a good guy, but I think he might not like it if I brought his _fiancé_ as my _date_."

"Righttt. Karasuno Mama and Papa are actually gonna become Mama and Papa," Tadashi chuckles.

"Did you see Asahi-san's post on Instagram the other day, when Sawamura-san asked him to be best man?" Hitoka grins. "It was so sweet."

"Shoutout to Nishinoya for getting the best angles," Tadashi says, and they all burst out laughing at the memory of the dramatic zoom-ins, explosive commentary, Asahi curled up like a pill bug on the floor and Sawamura standing exasperatedly over him with his hands on his face and a really nice bow tie with the words _best man?_ written over the tag.

"I bet they'll have a low-key wedding," Kei sighs. "None of that fancy ass reality show wannabe bullshit. Did you know my aunt ordered an actual flower wall? That thing is ten feet tall. Her daughter didn't even want it; but her mom wanted to show off because those things cost an arm and a leg."

"When is the wedding?" Hitoka asks.

"The end of November, I think."

"You've got time," she says, reassuringly. "I'm sure you'll find someone to go with you!"

"Hitoka, go to the wedding with me," Kei says at once, only half-joking.

"Rude, Kei, her boyfriend, A.K.A. _me_ , is literally sitting _right here_."

"You come too then, Tadashi," Kei retorts, and Hitoka nearly snorts her iced lemonade up her nose as she laughs.

"As if. Your Aunt Mika could melt steel with her glare alone. Like I'd subject myself to an entire day of her bullshit."

"...ugh."

The sad part was, Tadashi wasn't even exaggerating.

* * *

Despite Hitoka's confidence in him finding a date in a little over two months' time, the days are closing in, time is ticking by, and Kei still doesn't have anyone lined up.

It's not really his fault; he's actually _busy_ , with practice and school and his thesis and all the preparations he needs to make for his new job at the Sendai City Museum come April of next year. Between gruelling practice sessions and research and hunting down references, he doesn't have time to go bug someone to hang out with him at some wannabe posh wedding. That, and he also doesn't really want to drag someone into the decade-long Shindo family feud by proximity. It's times like these where he's eternally thankful his dad has a relatively quiet, uneventful, boring family that communicates solely through a Tsukishima family LINE group.

Hell, he's even getting stress dreams because of this whole wedding thing. Kei had one where he'd managed to convince Ushijima Wakatoshi of all people to be his date, and when they arrived at the wedding the five-course meal was just bowl after bowl of chicken bone broth, Tobio and Shoyou were dropping through the ceiling Mission Impossible-style to steal food, and Ushijima had danced with him before announcing, "I am Japan's southpaw canon," and served a flaming volleyball right through the flower wall.

...yeah. Maybe he's actually a lot stressed about this.

* * *

He's barely rapped twice on the door before it flings open wide, revealing a grinning Shoyou standing with his hands on his hips and legs set in a wide power stance.

"Why _hello_ Kei. How bold of you to come knocking on _my_ door, you filthy excuse of a friend."

"You invited me," Kei retorts, lightly elbowing his way into the foyer. There's already a cluster of shoes in the doorway, and the noise levels inside indicate some telling visitors. "I brought pork buns from Sakanoshita, but if you don't want me here I can just—"

"No way," Shoyou all but shouts, snatching the stuffed brown bag out of Kei's hands. He sticks his face in and inhales eagerly, eyes sparkling at the mere scent of Ukai's infamous pork buns, and turns back to Kei with his arms held open. "I take it back, you are so welcome here, what is _good_ , my man. C'mon, bring it in now, don't be shy."

"You're so easy," Kei snorts, but he steps into the hug anyway, letting Hinata re-align his spine with a solid, bone-creaking squeeze. And then he's bounding into the apartment, dragging Kei with him.

"Guys! Guys! Kei brought Sakanoshita pork buns!"

" _Alright!_ "

"Yesss."

"Wow, it's been a while since I had one of them! Thanks, Kei!"

The apartment-warming party looks like it’s already in full swing; empty beer bottles line the bar counter, plates of delicious snacks and finger foods cover the raised countertop, and everyone is spread out around the living room and the kitchen.

Tobio and Shoyou's new place is nice. It's on the larger side for just two people, but the layout is well-organized and made the most out of the space. Their living area is a mish-mash of two styles; an extensive gaming selection with an entire shelf of Shoyou's favourite action genres, an impressive array of volleyball tournament DVDs that Tobio collects, and half of the living room is taken up by weights, compact workout equipment, and other personalized training items. A row of slowly dying succulents line the window, and there are dozens of photos of Shoyou and Tobio together; on the beach, with their families, taking a break beside a volleyball court. A magazine spread of Tobio at the Olympics sits in a slightly tilted frame over the television.

Tadashi and Hitoka are obviously present, but Kenma, Lev, and Bokuto are also guests as well. He also recognizes some of Shoyou’s and Tobio’s teammates—one of the Miya twins (likely Atsumu, given how loudly he’s swearing at the television screen), an extremely despondent Sakusa Kiyoomi huddled in the corner of the room, and two older foreigners enjoying wine at the bar. Those playing Mario Kart are currently getting their asses trounced by Kenma, but Bokuto, free of any distractions, leaps over without any reservations and all but tackles Kei into the sofa.

“ _Tsukki!_ I’ve missed you!”

“I couldn’t tell,” Kei deadpans, desperately fighting off Bokuto’s additional attempts at a noogie. “God damn it, you gained muscle again?”

“Hells yeah I did,” Bokuto grins, sitting back to flex, and Kei takes the opportunity to launch himself off the cushions in a flash. Ignoring Bokuto’s whines, he shrugs his jacket off and nearly runs into Tobio as he looks for a closet.

"Yo. Just throw your coat in the office. Want something to drink?" Tobio asks him, and Kei nods, following along into the kitchen. "We've got Kahlua and milk because Tadashi says that’s all you’ll have, like the known heathen that you are."

"Piss off, it's delicious."

"Just drink regular milk. Why mix alcohol into it."

"Don’t talk to me when you’re literally holding a can of _Sapporo_."

Tobio rolls his eyes, but sets down a glass and a familiar brown bottle for Kei anyway, letting him mix his drink to his own satisfaction. "Tadashi told us how you won't be bringing us as your future wedding dates from now on. Shoyou isn't happy about that."

“That explains his strong words for me at the door.”

“Mhm. The loss of the all-you-can-eat-buffets really hit him hard.”

"Wasn’t my choice," Kei grumbles. "I would’ve asked either of you if it didn’t get out that you two were dating. It's all your fault for going public. Now my mom thinks I'll look like a homewrecker if I bring either one of you with me."

"Nah, Shoyou's too dumb to cheat."

"Hey!" Shoyou roars from the living room. "I heard that, Bastard-yama! I'm definitely smart enough to cheat!"

"Not sure why that’s the stance you’re taking, but you do you," Tadashi laughs. Shoyou sticks his tongue out at him.

"Hey! Hey! I can be your date!" Bokuto yells, nearly upending a bowl of popcorn as he waves. Sakusa does a full-body flinch that Kei relates deeply with. "I'm a great date material!"

"No thank you," Kei says at once. "You'd be the _worst_."

“What?!” Bokuto cries, crushed. Atsumu doubles over with laughter, and Shoyou jumps on damage control at once, yammering on about Bokuto’s incredible personality and volleyball ability and whatnot. Kei sips his drink and watches Bokuto slowly go from depressed-mode back to excitable mode again; it was like watching a balloon inflate.

The screen lights up with yet another one of Kenma’s wins, and there’s a further ruckus as Lev begs for another round while said pro-gamer scurries away from his clutches. Shoyou yells for a match, Tadashi and Hitoka get dragged into it, and Kei finds himself squashed on the sofa between Kenma and Tobio as a new round begins. It’s noisy and distracting as usual, but he relaxes anyway, actually enjoying the get-together. It’s been a while, and it’s been kind of lonely since they were all caught up with life and responsibilities. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

“The wedding,” Kenma says from beside him, so quietly Kei almost misses it.

“Pardon?”

“The wedding,” Kenma repeats. “When is it?”

“The end of November,” Kei replies. “On the 29th. It’s a Saturday.”

“Hmm,” Kenma hums. He plays with a hair tie absent-mindedly, apparently lost in some kind of thought. “And you’re looking for someone to go with you?”

“Yeah. What, are you available?” Kenma is quiet, but he’s not an idiot. In fact, he’s probably one of the most devious people Kei has ever encountered in his life. He’d probably find the whole fiasco hilarious.

Kenma shakes his head. “Sorry...I’ll be at a gaming convention in the city that weekend.”

“Ah,” Kei shrugs. “It’s fine. It’ll probably be terrible anyway. My aunt is a nightmare and my mom only wants me to bring someone so she can lowkey brag about it on the side, so I doubt it’ll be any fun unless you enjoy being paraded around and play mind games with gossiping housewives.”

Kenma’s eyes flash for a moment with something akin to mirth, but then it’s gone as he nods in understanding.

“Well...good luck, Tsukishima.”

Kei sighs and rubs his temples. “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

Shoyou, the opportunist that he is, takes that moment to lean over and prod at Kei’s knee. “What if I dyed my hair and changed my last name? Then nobody would recognize me! I could be Kageyama Shoyou or something!”

Tobio chokes on his beer, face going beet red, and in the second it takes Shoyou to realize what he’d just said, the conversation goes off the rails once again as everyone in the room leaps to address all the juicy implications of _that_ particular moniker.

“Oh! Oh ho ho ho! What’re you trying to say, Shoyou!”

“W-what! No, wait, t-that’s not—!”

“ _Tobio and Shoyou sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I—_ ”

“Finish that sentence and I _will_ kill you.”

* * *

Akiteru calls him just as he’s winding down from a jog one night, cheerful despite the late hour, and if only a little exasperated at the reason for his call.

“Look, would it kill you to answer some of mom’s texts every once in a while? She’s going crazy now that it’s less than a month and a half away from Kaori’s wedding. She wants to know if you’ve found a date yet.”

“Obviously not, if I haven’t texted her back about it.”

Akiteru has the nerve to laugh at him. “Wow, you’re really dragging it out, aren’t you?”

“Not my fault she banned my go-to dates. I’ll admit, Shoyou can get loud, but Tobio usually behaves, even if he does end up looking like a block of wood when he’s concentrating.”

“Yeah, your little ‘go-to’ dates might’ve worked up until the point where their faces ended up plastered all over the city,” Akiteru chuckles. “Kageyama went to _Rio_ for the _Olympics_. And literally everyone from the high school volleyball circuit in the last five years knows about Hinata. They’re actually pretty famous now, you know.”

“Oh yeah? Sometimes, if we’re out in public and they get recognized, I pretend I don’t know either of them.”

“You’re a terrible friend.”

“I tutored them for three years. Hitoka and I are literally the only reason why those two graduated. I’m allowed to drag them after going through that torment.” Kei leans against a lamppost along the bike path and bends over, touching the tips of his toes and relishing in the sharp burn of his hamstrings. “Why isn’t mom up your ass about a date? Why’s she only hounding me?”

“I already asked Saeko,” Akiteru replies, smug. Kei splutters and straightens up immediately.

“What the _hell_. And mom was okay with that?!”

“There’s an open bar involved. You try saying no to Tanaka Saeko after that,” Akiteru volleys back, and damn, he’s right. Kei grumbles, now extremely put off at the fact that his brother can bring _his_ go-to person.

“Ugh. This is why I hate events with mom’s side of the family.”

“Can’t argue that. But c’mon, lil’ bro, just ask someone from your team or class or something. It’s not a big deal.”

“Says you,” Kei huffs. “I’d really rather not go at all.”

“ _Kei_.”

“Fine. Fine! I’ll find someone. I’ll find someone stupidly smart and stupidly good-looking and stupidly successful, and let mom have her field day, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Akiteru laughs, and hangs up after that, leaving Kei to grumble his entire way back to his own apartment.

He’s still grouchy by the time he makes a late night snack, showers, and gets ready for bed. There are decidedly better things to worry about, like that new blocking form the assistant coach wants him to study from recent game tapes, or his appointment with his supervisor two days from now, or the fact that the bananas he buys somehow manages to spoil way before he’s able to get through all of them. Actual, real-life things that require his attention.

His phone pings at him with a LINE notification as he crawls under the sheets. It’s from Shoyou.

**_SHOYOU 10:23pm_ **

_KEI_

_TELL ME UR STILL AWAKE PLS_

**_Tsukishima.K 10:23pm_ **

_I am now if I weren’t before_

_What do u want_

**_SHOYOU 10:23pm_ **

_Perfect perfect perfect_

_can i give kenma ur number?_

**_Tsukishima.K 10:23pm_ **

_???_

_why_

**_SHOYOU 10:23pm_ **

_NO QUESTIONS JUST SAY YES NERDSHIMA_

**_Tsukishima.K 10:24pm_ **

_holy shit_

_yes, god, what the hell_

**_SHOYOU 10:24pm_ **

_ok yesss u won’t regrat it!_

_*regret_

**_Tsukishima.K 10:25pm_ **

_oh trust me I already am_

Shoyou doesn’t respond for a worrying ten minutes, during which Kei frowns and turns from side to side and doesn’t end up getting any closer to falling asleep at all. Restless, he grumpily opens a separate chat and messages Tobio, because if he can’t sleep then nobody else gets to either.

**_Tsukishima.K 10:36pm_ **

_care to tell me why your boyf decided to msg me at ten pm and demand I let him give my number to Kenma?_

**_Kageyama Tobio 10:36pm_ **

_no_

**_Tsukishima.K 10:36pm_ **

_No as in you wont tell me or no you don’t know??_

**_Kageyama Tobio 10:36pm_ **

_no as in idk why he asked_

_but just go with it_

_its not worth fighting him on it, trust me_

**_Tsukishima.K 10:36pm_ **

_oh, great, I feel loads better now, thanks_

**_Kageyama Tobio 10:37pm_ **

_you’re literally never not sarcastic, are you_

_...actually, shoyou just fucking giggled from under the sheets_

_like full on gremlin giggle_

_k good luck im not getting involved_

**_Tsukishima.K 10:37pm_ **

_???_

_Tobio???_

_What the fuck does that mean_

**_Tsukishima.K 10:40pm_ **

_TOBIO ANSWER ME_

_Message read at 10:41pm_

**_Tsukishima.K 10:41pm_ **

_I CAN SEE YOU’VE READ IT, DUMBASS_

And then, at 10:42pm that night, his phone pings with a brand new message. The notification drops down from the top of his screen, revealing an unsaved number but included a username and the first two messages sent. Kei squints at it, confused.

And then he drops his phone on his face in shock.

The number and profile picture may be new, but _oh_ , he’d know that name and face _anywhere_.

**_+030-1727-0092 K.Tetsurou 10:42pm_ **

_Long time to chat, Tsukki_

_So I heard you’re in need of a wedding date?_


	2. Kuroo Tetsurou Is Back In Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 let's goooo
> 
> I'm still recovering from the latest hq chapter, to be honest, so it's been a roller coaster since then lol. We are all Kageyama stans first and human beings second :')
> 
> Still waiting on Kuroo's appearance (wheeze)
> 
> enjoy!

He waits until the next morning to answer.

It's not that he's intimidated or shocked by the fact that Kuroo fucking Tetsurou messaged him (okay, he's a little bit shocked. Kind of shocked. A lot shocked), but rather, he doesn't know what to say. And it makes something inside Kei curl up with sad bitterness to think that, because there was a time when he and Kuroo messaged back and forth nearly every day without any lapses in conversations or particularly extended breaks. But those conversations were long gone now, lost with Kuroo's old phone number that had went out of service two years ago when he moved to England for work.

And yet, here they are.

_ Long time no chat, Tsukki _

Kei glowers down at his phone, reading the message over again as he follows the morning crowd to the subway station. The casual icebreaker was such a Kuroo thing to say, and the use of the familiar nickname tugged hard at something in Kei's chest despite his reluctance to admit it.

Damn it. In retrospect, at least he knows why Shoyou wanted to give Kenma his phone number now.

Speaking of which, there are quite a few notifications from said busybody, but Kei hadn't opened them last night either. Shit, he has to think of something to say.

Someone jostled him as they approached the subway station, and Kei gritted his teeth before opening the chat, saving Kuroo's number, and typing out his response.

**_Tsukishima.K 6:35am_ **

_ Hi Kuroo _

_ Long time is right _

_ Who told you I needed a date? _

God, it's so awkward. It's so awful and awkward and Kei wants to chuck his phone into oncoming traffic the moment he hits send, but the morning crowd shuffles forward and he's ushered down the stairs to the platform before he could consider acting on the idea. Service winks out on the train ride to campus, and by the time his phone pings again with a notification, he's already seated in his lab and listening to the teaching assistant ramble on and on.

But hell if he didn't desperately want to know what Kuroo said back.

The two hour class had never felt longer.

Kuroo's messaged a few more times when Kei is finally free to read all the pending notifications. He goes downstairs and buys himself the largest cup of hazelnut caramel mocha before opening any of them up.

**_K.Tetsurou 7:02am_ **

_ Haha, straight to the point as usual _

_ Glad to see you're still good ol' Tsukki _

_ Kenma told me! _

_ Something about shorty being upset _

_ that he's not the go-to date for your family weddings anymore, which _

_ that's a story I really need to know about later lol _

_ but they think i can help u with ur date situation _

_ something about me being good at playing mind games with gossiping housewives? _

_ not sure if that's a selling point but I can start shit with anybody, as you may know _

_ amongst my many other good traits _

_ lmao _

It's a long message. Kei re-reads everything at least four times before he even starts to think of a response.

**_Tsukishima.K 9:25am_ **

_ hey _

_ just got out of a two hour lab _

_ should've figured Shoyou is involved _

_ also, he and tobio were my go-tos, he doesn't get to flatter himself as the only one _

_ lay down that fact first and foremost _

_ and yes, there will be lots of gossiping housewives at my cousin’s wedding _

_ that's a given _

_ but unless you're back in japan by November I'm not sure how useful you might be _

_ even if u are superb at starting shit _

He doesn't expect a response right away (what was the time difference between Japan and England anyway? Shouldn't Kuroo be asleep?), but he's only just booted up his laptop when his phone pings again.

**_K.Tetsurou 9:31am_ **

_ holy shit you got kageyama in on it too?? _

_ you have got to tell me everything about this wedding date arrangement _

_ and spare no details lol _

_ I'm glad you've still got faith in my shit-starting abilities ;) _

_ and, uh, good news? I am in Japan _

_ back, I mean. for good. _

_ landed two days ago and been spending most of it trying to fix my jetlag lmao _

_ so I might actually be of some help, if you're interested _

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Kei drops his phone again.

* * *

The thing is, when Kuroo first told him that he'd gotten an offer at a research lab in England, Kei had tried so hard to be happy for him. And it's not to say he wasn't; he was happy  _ and _ proud, in all honesty, and excited for Kuroo because Kuroo had been so excited for the opportunity himself. The company was big and international and it was an  _ incredible _ offer for someone fresh out of undergrad, and Kuroo would've been damn stupid to turn the offer down.

But that was the thing. Kuroo was moving away.

And there was some terribly dumb, idiotically lovestruck part of Kei's heart that wondered if he confessed to Kuroo right then and there, that Kuroo would choose to stay. Assuming, of course, that Kei was reading into Kuroo's signals correctly, that his easygoing banter with Kei was flirtation (but he was so friendly and cheeky with everyone), that their late night chats meant something deeper than friendship (but he was open and willing to lend a listening ear to anyone who asked no matter what), and that somehow, Kei's growing feelings for Kuroo was not one-sided (but that would have to mean Kuroo had fallen just as hard as he had, and Kei had fallen  _ hard _ ).

It was all riding too much on speculation and unfounded hope. And even if things miraculously worked out, Kei would never stoop so low as to force Kuroo to choose between him and an honest-to-god  _ job _ .

So he said goodbye, just as all their other friends had, promised to keep in touch even as messages steadily grew less frequent until there was nothing at all, and swore not to let useless emotions get in the way of a friendship that felt like it had already passed.

* * *

If only things were that easy, honestly.

* * *

"You're a meddlesome little bastard, did you know that?"

Shoyou, little bastard that he truly is, just waggles his eyebrows and busies himself with unfurling his yoga mat.

"Who, me? I'm just a plain lil' nobody, I dunno what you're talking about."

"You are  _ not _ cute," Kei retorts, going for a jab but missing because Shoyou has had years of extensive experience dodging Tobio's lightning-fast strikes. "Seriously, how the hell did you even know Kuroo was back in Japan? Are you a stalker?"

"Am not!" Shoyou hollers. "If you must know, Kema was the one who suggested Kuroo! He's the one who knew when he was moving back."

"Kuroo-san is back?" Hitoka asks, surprised, from where she's fiddling the Bluetooth speaker. They get together for yoga every other Thursday night at Tadashi and Hitoka's place; Kei goes to unwind from school and work stress, and Shoyou unashamedly goes because he wants to 'get bendier for Tobio'. Kei seriously wishes he didn't know.

"He got a transfer to the new lab his company opened in Tokyo," Shoyou explains. "He flew back what, three days ago?"

"Four," Kei corrects unconsciously, and regrets it immediately when Shoyou smirks at him.

"So you guys  _ have _ been talking!"

"Mind your own business," Kei says. He settles on his own mat and tries to level his breathing; not an easy task, considering the way Shoyou is cackling beside him.

"Pfft. You'll thank me later when you don't have to go to your cousin's wedding alone, sucker."

"I never said we were going for sure, I said that we'd be  _ discussing _ it—"

"Whoa, back up," Tadashi interrupts, walking into the living room with the extra blocks he'd gone off to find earlier. "Kei! You found a date?"

"I did not," Kei says at the same time Shoyou goes, "He'll be going with Kuroo!"

Tadashi drops the blocks; he looks stunned for only half a second before a gleeful smile spreads. "Oh my god, tell me everything right now."

"I came over to do yoga, you nosy punks," Kei yells.

"Killjoy," Shoyou sniffs. "I'll tell you later, Tadashi, since Kei is being a butt about this."

"Yeah, Kei, you're totally killing the vibe," Tadashi huffs, and the two of them dissolve into helpless giggles as Kei lies face-down on his mat and makes a noise like an upset whale.

"There, there," Hitoka laughs, patting him on the shoulder soothingly. "I'll put the extra mellow beach relaxation playlist on, just for you."

* * *

**_K.Tetsurou 8:14pm_ **

_ sooo u still live in Sendai right _

**_Tsukishima.K 8:16pm_ **

_ Yes, I do _

**_K.Tetsurou 8:16pm_ **

_ perrrrrrfect _

_ [link] _

_ Ushio Ramen is opening a new location in ur area _

_ wanna catch up? _

**_Tsukishima.K 8:18pm_ **

_...you live in TOKYO _

**_K.Tetsurou 8:18pm_ **

_ yes I do _

_ but, consider this: bullet train _

_ I know, I know, crazy invention, right? _

**_Tsukishima.K 8:20pm_ **

_ you _

_ shut up _

**_K.Tetsurou 8:20pm_ **

_ LOOOL k k I'm sorry _

_ just teasing u _

_ fr tho. I wanna catch up, it's been a while _

_ also, shouldn't we talk about wedding date stuff? ;) _

**_Tsukishima.K 8:25pm_ **

_ if u wanna suffer thru two hours of commute just for ramen, by all means _

**_K.Tetsurou 8:26pm_ **

_ u say that like seeing u again isn't worth the trip _

_ lmao _

_ besides, I've got a two week break till I start work again _

_ figured I'd spend my time meeting old friends _

_ how does this Friday sound? _

**_Tsukishima.K 8:27pm_ **

_ works for me _

_ my last class ends at 6 _

_ meet at the restaurant? _

**_K.Tetsurou 8:28pm_ **

_ dope _

_ See u soon, Tsukki _

* * *

Friday arrives far too quickly for Kei's liking.

His week goes by in a distracted haze; he floats through his lectures and labs and blearily pens his way through a quiz that he can't say for certain he passed. Practice is a welcome change for once, because he goes hard at it and the burn of his muscles and the sweat rolling down his back is an excellent way to keep himself from thinking way too deeply about meeting with Kuroo again.

_ u say that like seeing u again isn't worth the trip _

God.

How does he just  _ say _ things like that.

Ushio Ramen is less than a minute off the line he usually takes back to his apartment, so Kei drops off his books, agonizes over what to wear for five intense minutes, and settles on a burgundy sweater Akiteru got him for Christmas last year and a pair of jeans before running back out again.

The streets are busy, filled with people going out on a Friday night, and there's a short lineup outside of the restaurant when he arrives. Kei glances down the line, searching for a familiar face, and when he doesn't see anyone he leans carefully around the doorway to look inside.

It's a spacious, comfortable restaurant. There are already patrons seated and eating, servers milling about, and the delicious scent of ramen washes over him as he looks.

Seeing Kuroo again was like a punch to the gut.

He's older, obviously, but both different and the same. His hair is a little shorter than Kei remembers but it's still a messy, effortlessly upturned hairdo. He's wearing a dark button-up shirt, tight enough to show off broad shoulders and arms, and he's scrolling through his phone, chin propped up on one hand, lower lip pushed out into the tiniest pout.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

Kei whirls around and plasters himself flat against the door, heart in his throat and his breathing stuttering to a halt.

He can't do this.

Holy shit. He can't do this.

A pinging sound from his pocket makes him jump, and he scrambles for his phone.

**_K.Tetsurou 6:24pm_ **

_ Got a table :-) _

_ far right side of the restaurant _

_ find me!! _

He squeezes his phone so tightly his case creaks. There's just no catching a break, is there?

"Sir? Are you alright?"

The employee managing the lineup is gazing at him with some concern, and it's only then that Kei realizes that he's getting some curious stares. Going red, he straightens himself and nods.

"Um. Yeah. Just. I'm meeting someone inside."

"Okay," the employee nods. "You can go ahead if they're already there."

Kei barely manages to mumble out his thanks before he walks into the restaurant, now sweaty and even more keyed-up than before. He gives himself a strong mental shake, the same one he usually gives himself when his mom announces they're having relatives over for dinner or when he's on rotation at the front of the net and they're at a match point in the last set.

It's just Kuroo.

He's got this. He's got this. He's got—

Kuroo looks up just as Kei makes it to his table, and the genuine, eager smile that appears on his face knocks the air out of Kei's lungs in less than a second.

" _ Tsukki _ ," Kuroo says, and then he's up and hugging Kei, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders, and Kei swears he can feel his brain short-circuit on the spot. He makes a muffled noise that might've been a greeting or a swear word and weakly hugs back, hesitantly placing his hands flat on Kuroo's back. On the other hand, Kuroo squeezes him tight, huffing out a soft laugh right beside Kei's ear. When he lets go, Kei sways slightly on the spot, almost dazed.

Kuroo grins at him, and Kei can feel his high school crush coming back in full swing, like one devastating sucker punch.

"Damn, you've gotten even taller," Kuroo says, drawing himself up to his full height. They're close, but Kei definitely has a couple centimeters on Nekoma's former captain.

"Didn't notice," Kei manages, and slides into the booth on jellied knees. He sets his phone and wallet down onto the table robotically, trying to arrange his long legs under the table so that he doesn't accidentally step on Kuroo. Shit, he's moving too much now.  _ Shit _ , Kuroo is talking and he was too busy thinking about Kuroo's legs to pay attention.

"—got off the wrong stop so I walked all the way back up from the station. Is it just me or did the transit system get even crazier in Japan while I was gone?"

"Just you," Kei replies, and that gets him another laugh from Kuroo.

"And you're still sassy as shit. Man, good to know some things really just don't change. I'm dying to know what's up but I'm also crazy hungry; I slept through breakfast and lunch but I'm pretty sure I finally got my internal clock properly re-aligned now, so that's worth it. Menu?"

Kei takes the plastic booklet with only the slightest tremor in his fingers, and flips open to the first page. "Thanks. Is that all you've been doing since you got back? Eating and sleeping?"

"Mostly," Kuroo chuckles. "And moving all my shit into storage. My mom's place isn't nearly big enough for the two of us, let alone all of my stuff too. Sold most of it before I came back though."

Kei squints. "So you just transferred, then?"

"Transferred over and moved up the glorious corporate ladder," Kuroo smirks. "But only really because I'm Japanese. I'll be working liaison for a while, just until we get back on track."

"Guess your English is top notch now."

"Ehh, still get those damn tenses mixed up from time to time. Learned a fuckton of swear words though."

Kei snorts, unable to help himself from keeping the fondness out of it. "Only you."

The waiter comes by, and they order their food. Kuroo adds a beer to his order and at his expectant look, Kei grudgingly picks the least-offensive alcoholic drink on the menu and lets the waiter take their menus.

"Alright, enough about me," Kuroo says. "What've you been up to? I haven't forgotten about the so-called wedding date arrangement with shorty and Kageyama you mentioned before, by the way, but since I'm a great guy I'll let you give me the rest of your life details first before grilling you on that."

"You're even nosier than Shoyou," Kei grumbles. "There's nothing remotely interesting about my life. I go to school and work. That's literally it."

"You still play volleyball," Kuroo says, not as a question but as a fact. He laughs at the deer-in-the-headlights expression on Kei's face. "C'mon, you seriously think you could hide that from me? Mister  _ professional V-League middle blocker _ ? You've gotten even cooler since we last talked."

Kei blushes against his will. "Your bar is astoundingly low."

"Aw, just take the compliment, Tsukki!" Kuroo laughs, and Kei fists his hands tight where they're resting on his thighs, fighting back another wave of heat that threatens to take over his face. Their drinks arrive, and food follows shortly after, and yet the words  _ compliment _ and  _ Tsukki _ still ring in his ears.

"Okay, so. Your family wedding event," Kuroo says over a mouthful of noodles. "Lay it on me."

Kei grimaces. Where does he even start? "My cousin is getting married at the end of November. She's nice, honestly, and her fiancé is a good guy, but her mom is, well, petty as shit. And my mom hates losing to her in anything."

"Ah, good ol' family drama," Kuroo makes the motion for a chef's kiss. "Can't have a wedding without some. It's like seasoning. Not a huge problem if you've got only a little, but it's always more fun in large doses."

"I can't even begin to point out how wrong you are with that," Kei snorts. "But that's besides the point. She just wants me to bring a date that won't empty the buffet table and lands her bragging rights or some bullshit."

Kuroo's smile widens. "Aww, do you think I'm good enough to be your wedding date?"

Kei pretends to think it over as he takes two large gulps of his beer, wincing at the burn of carbonation. "I'll buy dinner tonight if you come," he says, hoping his voice sounds flat enough to drown out any morsels of pathetic hopefulness.

"Deal," Kuroo says without hesitation. "Aw man, are you gonna wear a suit? I don't think I've ever seen you in one before. Are you gonna go suit shopping? We should go together!"

"You fixate on the weirdest shit."

"Touché. I gotta admit though, I don't get to dress up often. Lab regulations means I'm always in a lab coat and no loose-fitting clothing when I'm at work. I don't even think I fit into my old suit anymore? Actually, I think I lost it during my move."

It's weird, but it kind of feels like old times. They don't often meet in person, what with the two of them living in different regions and going to different schools, but sometimes Kuroo would drop by at their summer training camps, or he and Bokuto would organize some kind of get-together and drag Kei and Akaashi along for a day trip. But more often than not they'd simply message, catching each other up on games or techniques, or chatting about life and their teammates.

Kuroo talks animatedly, filling Kei in with all the details about working overseas. It rained a lot, apparently, and by the end of it Kuroo had amassed more umbrellas than he'd know what to do with. His first apartment was a dinky little thing the size of a broom closet, and he shared a wall with a resident that had non-existent musical skills but insisted on playing the violin at three in the morning. The next place he managed to move into was a beautiful loft in an older part of town. Kuroo flipped through pictures on his phone, showing off a neat space overlooking an older railroad route that was absolutely, definitely haunted, but all the hauntings were "tolerable, if only kinda fuckin' annoying," according to Kuroo.

Only Kuroo would manage to make roomies with an actual ghost.

Dinner is over before he knows it, and then they're stumbling out into the chilly evening air, buzzed from the beer and stuffed full of delicious noodles.

"Damn, that was good," Kuroo hums, stretching his arms over his head. He's got a small gym bag hanging from his shoulder, and it swings by his hip as he walks. "Been a while since I had a legit bowl of ramen. Hit the spot."

"It's not bad," Kei admits. He'll have to bring Tadashi and Hitoka at some point, once the grand opening crowd dies out.

Kuroo turns to him, and his expression is soft under the glow of the street lamps. Kei pulls up short, heart picking up speed instantly in his chest.

"It really was good to catch up with you, Tsukki," Kuroo says. "I know we kinda fell out of touch over the last two years, but I'm glad we can still talk. And I know we started messaging again because of your wedding thing, but it'd be cool if we get to keep hanging out again in the future."

"It happens," Kei croaks. His palms are sweaty. "But sure. We can always hang out. That'd be...nice."

Kuroo smiles at him, that same genuine smile again, and he looks a lot more relaxed than Kei remembers. Granted, the last time he saw Kuroo, they were in the midst of packing up all his worldly items to fly into a brand new country, so maybe that wasn't a good point of comparison. But it's a good look on Kuroo, and Kei kind of hates that he wants to see it all the time.

"I'd like that. LINE me anytime, Tsukki, my lunch breaks get rather boring fast."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Mm," Kuroo says, and glances down at his watch. "Geez, it's past ten already? Damn, I didn't think it was so late."

Me neither, Kei privately thinks, and then startles. "You idiot, you've missed the last train back to Tokyo!"

But Kuroo waves, totally unfazed. "Nah, I wasn’t planning on going back tonight. Never liked rushing while eating and I wanted to hang with you, so I'm gonna stay at a capsule hotel and head back tomorrow morning." He pats his gym bag cheerfully. "Maybe I'll do some shopping or something before I go too, I dunno. Sendai's still pretty green this time of year, eh?"

And instead of answering Kuroo's question like a normal person, Kei blurts out, "I have an extra futon. You can stay at my place if you want."

Kuroo blinks, surprised and Kei mentally reels back, embarrassment making his cheeks flush bright red. Shit, shit, now he’s made things awkward.

"I wouldn't want to impose," Kuroo says, but he wavers ever so slightly, and that’s all it takes for Kei to think,  _ fuck it _ .

"I have practice tomorrow morning, but as long as you're not Bokuto levels of loud it's fine. I can show you how to lock the door if you leave before I get back."

For a moment, Kuroo stands and stares at him, an unreadable look on his face, but it smoothes away into an easy grin and bright eyes within seconds.

"Well then, I thank you in advance for the stay, Tsukki."

"Don't mention it," Kei mumbles, and leads the way back to the station, trying very hard not to think about what he's managed to get himself into now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah Tsukki, what have you done now :3c
> 
> Galaxy brain Kuroo: miss your train and stay at a capsule hotel so you can chat up Tsukki  
> Docosahexaenoic acid brain Kuroo: miss your train and accept Tsukki's offer to stay at his place
> 
> hope everyone is healthy and safe! thanks for reading :)


	3. Tsukishima Kei Hates Dinner Parties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dear diary, it's day 4392024 and I still don't know if Kuroo is doing well :')
> 
> enjoy!

Kuroo is an infuriatingly polite house guest.

He murmurs a "pardon the intrusion" even though there's nobody there but the two of them, lines his shoes up carefully on the mat, and doesn't poke around even though he looks like he'd desperately love to. Kei stumbles around his apartment, quickly shoving his notes and papers off the coffee table and stashes the dirty dishes in the sink. Meanwhile, Kuroo hums to himself as he inspects Kei's movie collection, the few archive journals he'd signed out two weeks ago, the beautiful landscape portrait Hitoka painted for him as a housewarming gift, and snorts when he gets to the framed pictures on his bookshelf.

"These are so cute, Tsukki, what the hell."

"I didn't put them there," Kei grunts. He shoves open his bedroom closet and bundled the spare futon up in his arms. "Shoyou and Tadashi took it upon themselves to become interior decorators."

Kuroo laughs, picking up one of the frames. They're all bright and multicoloured, each with cute Sumikko Gurashi characters adorning the edges. Shoyou and Tadashi had also picked out his photos and refused to listen to any of Kei's protests: there's a photo of the five of them in their third year at the end of their final practice, the five of them on a theme park ride in varying states of excitement and distress, and their graduation photo where Shoyou insisted they built a human pyramid together. They'd nearly killed Hitoka, the shakey star at the top of their tower, when Tobio slipped on a leaf and sent everyone tumbling down.

"Eyyy," Kuroo says suddenly in delight, turning one of the frames to show Kei; it's a photo the Frogs’ team photographer had taken, a close up of him at a game in front of the net. Behind his goggles, Kei's eyes are zeroed in on their opponent, taped fingers held aloft, lips pressed into a thin line in his attempt to focus. It's a stupidly good photo, with a high enough resolution to show even the droplets of sweat at the tips of his hair. Tadashi had _wrestled_ him to keep that picture up. "Wow, check out that look in your eye! Who _are_ you?"

"Shut up," Kei groans, and staggers over with the futon. Kuroo laughs at him, but mercifully sets the frame aside in favour of helping Kei set up. They shove the coffee table against the wall, roll the futon out, and Kei leaves Kuroo to fluff up his own pillows while he retrieves the rickety privacy blockers from the laundry closet.

"The bathroom is at the end of the hall. I've got an extra toothbrush and bath stuff somewhere in the cabinet if you look deep enough. Feel free to take a shower in the morning if you want. I have to leave at six-thirty tomorrow morning for practice, but the coffeemaker starts at six and there's always extra. If you want to leave, just lock the door on the inside and make sure it shuts all the way before you go. There's a Lawson's a block from here and a couple of cafés on the main strip too, if you're looking for food."

He’s definitely rambling now, but at least it hides the way his hands quiver as he sets up the blockers.

"Gotcha," Kuroo nods. "What time are you done?"

"Noon, usually."

"Dope. You play for the Frogs, right? Is your practice gym still on Tohoku campus?"

"Yeah, it is—how did you know that?"

"I got my sources, Tsukki."

"Let me guess, is he ginger and short and loud as hell?"

"Hmm, can't say!"

"Unbelievable," Kei rolls his eyes, but it's without heat. "I'm going to bed. Make yourself comfortable. Let me know if you need anything."

"You bet I will," Kuroo says gleefully, and makes a big show of kneading the blanket like a damn cat. "Thanks again for having me."

"No problem," Kei says, and shuts his bedroom door behind him without further ado.

And then he promptly collapses against it, sliding weakly down to the floor as he lets out a shaky breath. God, he is such an _idiot_ , why the hell would he think that having Kuroo sleeping over in his damn apartment would help him tamp down on his stupid high school crush at all? Kuroo, whom he hasn’t spoken to for two years, whom he still has a _massive_ crush on, is sharing his space. The walls are not particularly thick in his apartment. Even now, he can hear the faint sounds of Kuroo humming to himself, the sounds of fabric shifting, and he has to work extra hard not to imagine Kuroo changing into a set of sleep clothes that he'd apparently had the foresight to bring with him.

Kuroo had wanted to stay late and eat with him. Late enough that he'd miss his train home, late enough that he'd camp out at a shitty capsule hotel that probably isn't even big enough to house him, just so he wouldn’t have to rush through dinner.

"Do not overthink this," Kei tells himself quietly through gritted teeth. He thunks himself a few times on the forehead with his fist for good measure. "Do _not_ overthink this."

He changes at lightning speed, sets his alarm, and dives into bed. He yanks the blankets up to his nose and forces his eyes shut, willing sleep to come.

He hears the sound of running water in the bathroom, the soft shuffle of footsteps in the hall outside his door, and then the _click_ of the light turning off in the living room. The ambient noise of the apartment is louder than Kei has ever remembered, with the hum of the refrigerator and the whir of the air vent providing a pitiful distraction for his restless brain before he finally falls asleep.

* * *

The noise in the gym always fades into the back of his mind when he's up at the net.

There's the blur of movement on the other side. The teammates he’s playing against are setting up for a spike. He can feel his shirt sticking to his back, the buzz of blood beneath his fingertips, and the good burn in his muscles as he moves.

Kei's foot thuds definitively against the ground as he braces himself; he drops low, muscles bunching in his thighs as he watches. Not yet, not yet, not yet—

" _Now!_ " He shouts, and his blockers leap in time with him. The ball smacks hard against the flat of his palm before it slams onto the ground on the other side of the net, the sound as sweet and satisfying as the whistle that signals the end of the game.

"Argh!" Ito, the wing spiker, groans and yanks at his hair. "Damn you, Tsukishima! You and your stupid sticky blocks!"

"Mhm," Kei smirks, straightening. His teammates screech and clap him on the back, and he gets an approving nod from his coach at the sidelines. Now that the game is over, they're dismissed for the day, warned to make sure they cool down properly, and then they're free to go.

He's packing his water bottle and towels when he hears a whistle from the viewing balcony above, and looks up.

It's Kuroo.

"Shit," Kei says, startled. "What the shit are you doing here?"

Kuroo laughs at him, looking way too satisfied with himself. "I told ya I knew where you had practice."

Kei sniffs and busies himself with tidying the rest of his things at breakneck speeds. He can see his teammates looking curiously between him and Kuroo. "Creepy as usual. Have you been here this whole time?"

"Nah," Kuroo shakes his head. "Dropped in half an hour ago? But hey, go get changed, I'll meet you out front."

And then he's gone, climbing the steps to the exit before Kei could stop him. Grimacing, Kei hurries into the change rooms, and desperately tries to tell himself that the heat in his face is from practice.

When he emerges ten minutes later, hair still a bit wet and clothes haphazardly stuffed into his bag, Kuroo is sitting at the benches at the front of the gym. The weather is mild for late September, and he's wearing nothing but a tight grey t-shirt and the same jeans from yesterday.

"I'm gonna call building security on you next time."

"Ha ha," Kuroo says. "You'd miss me if they took me away."

"I'd pee myself laughing if they did."

"You're such a jerk sometimes," Kuroo retorts, but he looks absolutely delighted by that fact instead of annoyed. "Also, I got you lunch." He holds up a brown paper bag by the handles. "To thank you, for letting me stay over."

"You didn't have to," Kei says, stomach flip-flopping, but Kuroo just shrugs.

"My mama didn't raise no impolite punk. C'mon, I saw some empty tables out in the quad. I wanna talk about your blocking, because sweet mercy, that last one you did? That was fuckin' _sick_."

"It was alright. Timing was a little bit off."

Kuroo makes a wounded noise as they settle at a table. Lunch turns out to be fresh donburi bowls with a side of soup and salad, and Kei’s traitorous stomach makes a loud rumble.

"Get your head out of your ass, Tsukki! You had a damn good formation and you know it. Stuffed #14 right in his face."

"Ito's easy to read sometimes. He's always had a tendency to favour one kind of strike when he gets into the groove of it. Kinda like someone we know."

Kuroo grins, wide and wicked. "Speaking of Bokuto, does he know you've taken a leaf out of his book with your knee pads now? I'm surprised they even had ones long enough to cover your legs."

"Those are _compression sleeves_ , and I wear them with my _normal knee pads_. And don't you dare tell him, because he had no influence whatsoever on my choice of sporting attire, you hear?"

Okay, maybe he did take a peek at the brand Bokuto prefers way back then, but that's for Kei to know and nobody else to find out. Besides, they were comfy and it made all that jumping easier.

Kuroo looks like he doesn't believe a word Kei says, but he just smirks and hands Kei a pair of chopsticks. They talk idly as they eat, falling back into the familiar territory of volleyball. He's not sure if Kuroo still plays, or played overseas even, but he's still as sharp and perceptive as ever, and he isn't afraid to voice his opinions. And Kei lets him, pretending to counter every praise and critique he receives, but he's secretly filing all of it away safely in his mind.

They're just about finished their meal when Kei's phone buzzes with an incoming call. He looks down, sees **_Mom_ ** flashing across his screen, and grimaces.

"Sorry, gotta take this," he sighs. Kuroo nods and settles easily back into his seat, gazing out across the quad to watch a bunch of birds flutter about on the lawn. Kei swipes to answer and lifts his phone to his ear; he knows exactly what his mom is calling about, and figures hell—he might as well bite the bullet now and let her know he's found someone.

" _Kei,_ " she huffs, annoyed and irritated when he says hello. " _I've been messaging you for days. Would it kill you to answer your own mother sometimes?_ "

"Sorry, I was kinda busy. Work and practice and school, you know."

" _Uh-huh. Listen, honey, I know I've been bothering you about this, but I just want to make sure everything is smooth and ready for Kaori's wedding—_ "

"I know. I've been meaning to tell you but I've already found a date for the wedding."

" _—and your brother is going with someone too—wait, what did you say? You found a date?"_

"Yeah," Kei says, and swallows. "I do."

His mom is silent for a few moments. " _And they're not...your volleyball friends?_ "

Technically, Kuroo is, but Kei isn't going to make things more complicated than they have to be. "He's a friend of mine that I caught up with. He recently moved back to Japan."

" _Moved back?_ " His mom asks. " _Where was he before_?"

"Working. Overseas."

" _I see...okay, then. What's his name?_ "

"Kuroo," Kei answers, and Kuroo turns his head to watch him. In the afternoon sun, he looks languid and relaxed, with an arm propped up on the back of his chair and his long legs crossed in front of him. He gives Kei a lazy smile that does terrible things to Kei's heart. "Kuroo Tetsurou. And before you ask, yes, he's still got a job, yes, he's busy, and yes, I will organize a time for us all to meet before the wedding, okay?"

His mom grumbles, but fortunately, she's satisfied. " _Alright. Bring him over for dinner sometime, and ask him what he likes to eat. We'll see if we can get Akiteru to bring Saeko-chan over too_."

"Alright, I will. Bye."

" _Bye, honey, talk to you soon_."

"All good?" Kuroo asks, folding his arms as he leans onto the table top. He looks amused.

"Yeah," Kei says. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "She wants to have you over for dinner sometime. I told her I'd figure a time out with you. But she wants to know what you like to eat so she can make it."

"That's nice of her," Kuroo grins.

"Trust me, we're all just pawns in her eternal battle against my Aunt Mika," Kei sighs. "The least she could do is make something you like."

"Right, the gossiping housewives. I better polish up my game."

"Oh god," Kei says. "I'm starting to wonder if you're really the most optimal choice now."

"No take-backs!" Kuroo sing-songs. "I'm gonna blow their socks off, just you wait."

* * *

He sees Kuroo off at the station after lunch; Kei flounders with his goodbye, unsure of what to say or do. Will they meet up again? They have to; he's promised his mom to bring Kuroo over, but now that he thinks about it, he didn't really _ask_ Kuroo so much as decide that for him, and shit, was that too presumptuous?

Kuroo, oblivious to Kei's internal crisis, simply turns to him just after the notice board announces the arrival of the train departing to Tokyo, and wraps Kei up in a brief, one-armed hug. Kei startles, but manages to hug back just before Kuroo straightens.

"I'll message you my schedule," he says. "And we'll work out a time."

"Sounds good," Kei nods. His fingertips tingle from where he's touched Kuroo's back, and his neck is far too warm for the late September day.

"Later, Tsukki."

"Bye, Kuroo."

* * *

**_SHOYOU 6:12pm_ **

_soooooooooooooo_

_hows it goin kei_

**_Tsukishima.K 6:13pm_ **

_what do u mean how's it going_

_it's Saturday night_

_nothing is going_

**_SHOYOU 6:13pm_ **

_buh_

_bruh_

_ur BORING_

**_Tsukishima.K 6:13pm_ **

_and ya basic_

**_SHOYOU 6:14pm_ **

_im kinda hoping thats a good place reference so ill let it slide_ _  
_ _BUT BACK TO THE BIZ_

_hows_

_it_

_GOIN_

_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_

**_Tsukishima.K 6:15pm_ **

_why...are you making that face at me_

_and ofc it was was a good place reference_

**_SHOYOU 6:15pm_ **

_k FIRST OF ALL why did u tell us you were watching smh??_ _  
_ _we could’ve been doing viewing parties this whole time_

_second of all_

_yknow_

_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_

_kuroo_

_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_

_YA KNOW_

_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_

**_Tsukishima.K 6:16pm_ **

_u guys torrent the bootleg shit with crappy subtitles, im not watching with u lot_

_Also, stay TF away from me demon_

**_SHOYOU 6:16pm_ **
    
    
    **_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_ **  
      
    
    

**_Tsukishima.K 6:17pm_ **

_You are the weirdest, you know that?_

_The fucking WEIRDEST_

**_SHOYOU 6:17pm_ **

_hahahahaha_

_don't forget it kei_

_and also, I already know Kuroo didn't go back to Tokyo fri night_

_bc Kenma obvs_

_SOOOOOOOOO_

**_Tsukishima.K 6:20pm_ **

_oh my god._

_he stayed over, alright?_

_but nothing happened_

_he slept in the living room_

_I felt bad that he was going to stay in a capsule hotel, okay??_

**_SHOYOU 6:20pm_ **

_YESSSSS I WIN_

_UR THE BEST KEI_

_and also hoo hoo hoo that's steamy_

_had good chats?_

**_Tsukishima.K 6:21pm_ **

_u win??_

_u know what I don’t wanna know_

_and yeah sure great chats now will u leave me alone?_

**_SHOYOU 6:21pm_ **

_Yah yah ok ok :-)_

  
  
  
  


**_Kageyama Tobio 6:32pm_ **

_motherfucker you cost me ten thousand yen and a week of unlimited spiking practice_

**_Tsukishima.K 6:32pm_ **

_It's what u get for making bets on me_

_ya BASIC_

* * *

True to his word, Kuroo shares his calendar with Kei a few days into October. Most of the days are blocked off by three or four events at the least, but they're all colour coded and chronological, which immediately earns him a few brownie points in Kei's books. Tobio likes to input his events under "all day" instead of time-stamping them, Tadashi leaves everything under the blue default colour scheme, and Shoyou straight up doesn't use a calendar and relies on the power of God and anime to remember anything. Hitoka, with her tidiness and meticulousness, is the only one he respects.

He idly pokes around Kuroo's calendar, taking notes of what the other man is up to. Green are all work meetings and project deadlines. Yellow are social events, and he's unsurprised to see familiar names like _Bokuto & Akaashi _ and _Yakkun & Kai _ under those events. There's a few more scattered here and there, like bank appointments, a tentative gym schedule, and apartment viewing times.

Curiosity gets the better of him; Kei opens up a few of the viewing events, browsing through the locations. Two apartments near Shibuya station, a basement home in the suburbs, and a few other cheaper condos in the semi-downtown area of the city. They’re all single-person places, and the ones that weren’t seem to be a few people looking for an additional roommate. It makes something weak in Kei go giddy with relief at the fact that Kuroo doesn’t seem to be moving in with a significant other.

And now that he’s mentally opened up that little can of worms, the floodgates are pushed open; _did_ Kuroo date overseas? It wouldn’t be surprising if he did; two years is a long time to spend in a new environment and new people. But he was busy with work, and Kei knows that Kuroo isn’t a slack-off in the slightest. Would he have time to date? Was he interested in dating?

Fuck. He’s more obsessed than he’d like to admit.

In the end, feeling a little ashamed at his nosiness and grumpy at himself for acting like a lovesick high schooler, Kei closes the events and picks out a Saturday at random.

**_Tsukishima.K. 2:12pm_ **

_Saturday the 10th work for you?_

_also, what do u like to eat?_

**_K.Tetsurou 2:24pm_ **

_absolutely tsukki_

_Pls tell ur mom anything mackerel would be great_

* * *

Hilariously, he can tell his mother doesn’t know what to make of Kuroo when they first meet.

Appearance-wise, he’s always looked slightly delinquent, there’s no disputing that. Now that he’s a little older too, there’s a kind of intimidating air about Kuroo when he’s not smiling. His impressive height, broad build and messy hair lend to that particular look as well, but the second Kuroo pulls out a pretty box filled with European pastries and flashes his patented cheshire grin, showing off perfect pearly-whites, his mom is instantly appeased.

“Kuroo-kun, welcome,” she says, accepting the box graciously from him. “Oh my! So many wonderful desserts! You shouldn’t have, dear.”

_Dear_. Good god, Kei is not going to survive this.

“It’s my pleasure,” Kuroo says, like that absolute suck-up that he is, and straightens up from his bow to wink at Kei. He’s unfairly put-together tonight too; he’s wearing some kind of button-down shirt with an unobtrusive pattern all over it, dark trousers, and there’s a large, sophisticated-looking watch strapped to his wrist. He even looks like he’s actually tried to tame his hair a little, and Kei’s heart does somersaults without his permission.

“Kiss ass,” Kei informs him quietly as he takes Kuroo’s coat, and Kuroo turns his laugh into a quick cough.

Akiteru and Saeko are already sitting in the living room, snacking on crackers and peanuts and sipping beer as they talk to his father. Kuroo bows and shakes his father’s hand; meanwhile, Akiteru actually manages to recognize Kuroo from their match against Nekoma years ago, which prompts Saeko to yell and point.

“ _You!_ The cats’ scheming captain!”

“That’s me,” Kuroo agrees, dropping down onto the sofa next to Kei. He’s warm, practically radiating heat, and Kei shifts, trying not to show how much the proximity affects him.

“Saeko-san is Tanaka-san’s older sister,” Kei says, because he can tell Kuroo is doing some complicated mental gymnastics trying to figure out who the hell she is, and the second recognition hits a hilarious look of shock crosses over his face.

“Oh my god, _Tanaka_. I remember now. Yamamoto’s look-alike.”

“Tora!” Saeko laughs, throwing her head back. “He and Ryuu still talk, you know? Noisy brats. They’re trying to run a marathon together in the spring.”

“Wow, that I did not know. How is your brother, by the way?”

“He’s good,” Saeko says, taking a large gulp of beer. “Married now, can you believe that? His wife’s that absolute bombshell of a beauty these Karasuno kids had for a manager!”

Kuroo’s jaw literally unhinges, and Kei bursts out laughing before he could stop himself.

His mom calls them all over for dinner, and they all gather at the table. Kei shifts nervously as they eat, trying not to look too obvious at the way he glances between his mother and Kuroo. Saeko’s already come over a few times before and has thus already passed several rounds of interrogation. But luckily, Kuroo handles all of his mother’s prodding questions like a champ.

“So, Kei says you were working overseas and came back to Japan recently?”

“Yes, I was working in a research lab in Manchester, England, for the last two years.”

“Two years! What did you study?”

“Organic chemistry. I’m an analytical chemist, and I moved back after the company I work for opened a new branch in Tokyo.”

“How wonderful,” his mother says. “And how do you know Kei?”

Kuroo glances his way; Kei clears his throat, grateful that Kuroo’s smart enough to let him take the lead here.

“We played against each other in high school volleyball a few times.”

His mother gives him a very specific look. “Volleyball, hmm?” Go figure. Tobio and Shoyou’s made too much of an impression.

“We’ve only ever played one official match against each other. Kuroo’s two years older than I am.”

“Do you still play, Kuroo-kun?” his mother asks, and Kuroo stills, pausing his attempts at picking up pieces of grilled mackerel.

“Only recreationally, but not for a while now,” he replies, and there’s something kind of sad and wistful in his expression that makes Kei wish he’d stopped his mother from asking the question at all. Shit, he should’ve just lied and said they met through a mutual friend or something. “I joined a team in university, but after going overseas, there wasn’t much opportunity to play.”

“Sometimes life catches up with you, doesn’t it?” Akiteru pitches in, evidently picking up on Kei’s stiffness and Kuroo’s melancholy, and because he’s a real one, he easily maneuvers the conversation and derails it entirely from volleyball. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about picking up a new hobby, only to get sidetracked by work. Your English must be very good then, if you worked in England for two years!”

They try the pastries Kuroo brought after dinner, and Kei tries not to read too much into the very cute slice of strawberry shortcake tucked amidst the other delicious-looking desserts. That notion, of course, flies right out the window when Kuroo singles out the cake and sets it deliberately down in front of Kei, a little grin on his face. Kei takes it and resigns himself to another turmoil of emotion. _He remembered he went and got it for me he didn’t forget my favourite dessert ugh what the FUCK._

And the cake was scrumptious, damn it.

“I’m driving Saeko home and then back into the city,” Akiteru says when they’ve finished dessert, sat through coffee, and fulfilled an appropriate amount of time spent making small talk with their parents. “I can drop you two off at Kei’s place too.”

“Great,” Kei says at once, standing. “Let’s go.”

“Already?” his mother asks, pouting at him. “You’re never home anymore, Kei.”

“I’m busy. I have two interviews next week and the winter tournament brackets are starting soon, so practices are running longer.”

His mother sighs, dragging out the long-suffering sound, and his father touches her shoulder gently. “Our boys are working hard, Akiara. There will always be time in the future for dinners again. Besides, weren’t you just saying how you’ve been planning to repaint the den?”

Thank god, Kei thinks. Saved by dad.

“I suppose,” his mother says, grumpy, but she sends them all packing with too much leftovers and fusses over their coats anyway. “Akiteru, would you _please_ wear something thicker? I know you take the subway a lot but you’ll get a cold at this rate. And Kei, _text your mother back_.”

“Alright,” Kei mumbles, and lets her pull him into a tight hug.

“Saeko-chan, come by again soon. And Kuroo-kun, it was lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise, Tsukishima-san,” Kuroo says, and hugs his mother and shakes his father’s hand before they’re all piling out the door and into Akiteru’s car.

“That went well,” Akiteru says, when they’re finally on the road. Kei sighs, aggravated, and slumps into the backseat. Akiteru laughs. “Oh, c’mon, at least she didn’t break out the ten-year-future-plan talk.”

“Fuck, you’re right.”

“ ‘Ten-year-future-plan’?” Kuroo asks, peering curiously at Kei over the toppling bag of tupperware.

“Sometimes our mother gets a bit ahead of herself,” Akiteru says. “And her questions get rather...intense. A ‘scope out this individual’s decade long life plan’ kind of intense.”

“That’s an understatement,” Kei snorts. “This is why I don’t come home. She wants to know what I’ll be doing every day of my life up until I’m thirty when most days I don’t even know what I want for dinner. She’s already trying to plan your wedding, you know.”

“Do not remind me of that,” Akiteru whines, gripping the steering wheel. Saeko barks a laugh, reclining easily in the passenger seat.

“Hah! You just gotta do something rebellious, Akiteru, and she’ll give up and get off your back in an instant. The offer to join my garage’s dirt bike racing team is still open, you know!”

“Do I look like a dirt biker to you?” Akiteru asks, amused. “Nobody would believe that.”

Saeko smirks. “That’s ‘cause you’re a good boy. See, you just have to be a little messier and louder like me. Literally nobody is interested in getting me to date their kid, let alone try to organize my wedding!”

Personally, Kei was pretty sure there was a tall, dumb, goody-two-shoes blond directly related to him who’d love to date Saeko, but he wisely keeps his mouth shut for now. Kuroo is watching the two banter, an amused grin on his face.

They drop Saeko off at the Tanaka residence, and then Akiteru brings them back to Kei’s apartment.

“See you at the wedding, Kuroo,” Akiteru calls out of the driver’s window. “It was really nice catching up!”

“You too, Tsukishima-kun,” Kuroo replies, tipping his head, and Akiteru laughs.

“You’re too formal! Call me Akiteru, and don’t let my un-cute little brother boss you around. He’s softer than he looks.”

“Good _night_ , Akiteru,” Kei says loudly, and shoves a laughing Kuroo through the front door of his building.

He’s glad he had the foresight to set up the futon in the living room before meeting Kuroo at the station earlier that afternoon, because the second the door closes Kei can feel the exhaustion seeping from his bones, weighing him down. He kicks his shoes off and shucks his cargidan aside, tossing it over the back of his sofa as he reaches for the tupperware.

“Let me,” Kuroo says at once, and carries all the food into the kitchen before Kei could protest. “Where do you want this?”

“Anywhere where there’s space in the fridge is fine,” Kei says, following behind. Kuroo pulls the door open and crouches down, and Kei’s gaze follows, landing on the curve of Kuroo’s very nice ass before he snaps his eyes back up, heat rising in his neck. “Just—uh, push the meal prep stuff I have out of the way.”

“That’s a lot of chicken and pasta,” Kuroo grins. “Look at you, you _are_ such a professional! Following a meal plan and all! You were such a twig in high school too.”

“Was not,” Kei grumbles. He unpacks the boxes and passes them down, letting Kuroo arrange everything.

“Don’t lie, Tsukki, I’m pretty sure Sawamura had to force-feed you extra rice during that first year we had training camp together. I swear Bokuto was gonna snap your arm with the force of his spikes.”

“Yeah, but Bokuto was crazy. He ate five solid meals a day and played volleyball extensively six days a week. I know he bruised your arms too, sucker.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me. Fool’s built like a brick shithouse, and he only managed to get buffer.” Kuroo straightens, dusting his hands off, and closes the door. The melancholic look is back on his face, and Kei watches him. Kuroo’s eyebrow twitches, like he’s considering what he wants to say.

“I kinda miss it,” he admits after a moment of silence.

Kei blinks; Kuroo drums his fingertips on the countertop, looking somewhere further away than the plain beige wall of Kei’s apartment. “I miss the thrill of the game, the noise of the court, and the feeling of my teammates with me. It was lonely overseas. Stopping cold turkey like that to learn a new language and go to work and try to figure out how to change my whole lifestyle...before I knew it, I wasn’t playing at all anymore.”

Kei swallows. Something sits lodged in his throat. “Do you regret it? Leaving Japan for work?” 

He knows Kuroo could’ve made it to the pros if he really tried—there aren’t many people that had the brains and a strong presence on the court, but more importantly, the sheer tenacity that clung to opponents and refused to let them through, no matter what. Kei knows this; he’s spent the last years of his high school career and his current profession chasing that ideal make of being a middle blocker. 

Kuroo sighs. “No, I don’t regret it. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I’m hella good at it, and living on my own was a great experience. But I can’t say that I’m not glad to be back in Japan, and I can’t say that I didn’t wish for something more to come out of my volleyball career. You know what I mean?”

Kei nods. Selfishly—and oh, this was so, _so_ selfish of him to think—he’s glad Kuroo doesn’t regret leaving. If he did, those two lost years, the silence between them, and the emptiness without Kuroo, would’ve felt like it had been all for nothing.

“You love it. And you loved the game for so long—it’s not easy to leave that behind.”

Kuroo turns and looks at him, a wistful smile on his face.

“You’re right,” he says, quiet. His eyes are soft and dark in the half-lit apartment. “It wasn’t easy at all.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes Kei feel like he’s not just talking about volleyball.

“It’s getting late,” Kei murmurs, shaking his head clear of sad, hopeful thoughts. He tugs at his sleeves and tilts his chin towards the living room. “Let’s just...get some rest.”

“Oh, shit, it’s past eleven already? No wonder I’m tired. Ugh, I am such an old man now.”

“You’re twenty-four, Kuroo.”

“And yet my joints creak like I’ve spent fifty years on this earth. Let me at that glorious futon, Tsukki, outta my way.”

“I take it back, you’re actually four years old.”

“ _Wow_.”

Something in his chest twists and flutters at the sigh of Kuroo diving into the pillows, groaning lowly as he rolls around in the sheets. Kei tears his gaze away and grabs his cardigan, ready to hurry into his own room and drop into his own bed, but something makes him stop in the doorway and turn back.

“Kuroo?”

“Mhm?” A mess of black hair pops up from behind the couch, so reminiscent of a curious cat that it makes Kei smile, unable to help himself.

“Thanks for coming to dinner tonight.”

Kuroo licks his lips, and nods.

“No problem, Tsukki. G’night.”

“Good night, Kuroo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was all about the feels, the pining, and Tsukishima’s legs in Bokuto-style thigh-high knee pads. You’re welcome.
> 
> Also, Tsukishima is 100% a Tokage fan don’t @ me it’s the truth. Somewhere in his apartment Yamaguchi has left [this](https://i.etsystatic.com/17944369/r/il/b65ef0/1542071338/il_570xN.1542071338_2f4r.jpg) for him
> 
> thank you for reading!! keep safe everyone :)


	4. Kuroo Tetsurou Makes A Bold Suggestion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter doesn't take place immediately after the Tsukishima family dinner, but it's not a long timeskip LOL; maybe about a few weeks. They're getting closer to the wedding, oho.
> 
> enjoy!

The moment he walks into the central hub of the Tokyo bullet train station, he hears his friends’ greeting before he could even see them.

“TSUKKI! OVER HERE!”

“Oh no you don’t!” Kuroo laughs, bolting forwards to latch onto the back of Kei’s jacket when he turns abruptly and tries to go back the way he came. “You can’t say you didn’t expect this kind of a loving welcome, Tsukki!”

“So mean!” Bokuto cries, nearly crushing him as he wraps Kei up in a way-too tight hug. Kuroo takes this as an open invitation to do the same, and Kei finds himself smashed between the two beefcake excuses of human males before he could stop them. “Prickly as always, Tsukki!”

“This was a mistake,” Kei wheezes, batting at both men wildly. A little ways away, Akaashi is grinning at his pain. He looks a little better than when Kei saw him last, more relaxed and bundled up in a fluffy white scarf, though the eye bags don’t look like they’ve gone away. “Akaashi-san, call off your boyfriend.”

“That’s enough, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi chides, coming to his rescue, and Bokuto’s immediately distracted by his boyfriend, like an adoring puppy following an owner. "Hello, Tsukishima-kun, how was the trip?"

"Good," Kei says, tilting his head to stretch out a crick in his neck. "Definitely ready for lunch, though." The crackers and coffee on the train had barely amounted to anything.

"Perfect," Kuroo drawls, dropping an arm around Kei's shoulders, oblivious to the way it makes Kei’s stomach swoop. "I know just the place."

‘Just the place’ turns out to be a French café, charming and quaint. Kei’s surprised Kuroo would be into a place like this, but he did spend two years overseas, and the food isn’t bad at all. Plus, the dessert menu was fantastic.

They ordered their food and chatted about everything—Kuroo had seen both Bokuto and Akaashi once he’d come back, so it’s not like everyone is meeting again for the first time in years. But it has been a long time since all four of them got together like this (Bokuto eagerly put together a group chat titled ‘Former Third Gym Vball Bros’ and forcibly added Kei in before he could protest), and as chaotic as everything was, it’s nice to hang out again.

It’s funny, how much they’ve all changed since high school. Kuroo and Bokuto had gone ahead to university first as third-years, but Kei and Akaashi still got the chance to meet at summer training camps and at tournaments a few more times before their lives all split into their separate paths. And here they are, nearly a decade after they’d first met, enjoying lunch and still heatedly debating volleyball. Akaashi smiles more openly now, eyes twinkling behind his glasses, and even gives little puffs of laughter when something amuses him. Bokuto’s become an astoundingly good conversationalist, and a surprisingly good listener. More than once, he brings something up that Kei had said before but never expected someone to remember.

And Kuroo has changed too; he’s perhaps a little quieter than he’d been back in the day, especially around Bokuto, and seems to prefer soaking up in the noise and chatter around him like a sleepy cat amidst a dinner party. He’s always been smart, Kei knows, but he’s so worldly now, and there’s something dashingly attractive about the confidence and knowledge that Kuroo subtly shows, but never flaunts.

Being semi-functional adults in their mid-twenties also means that going out for fun nowadays usually just involves doing domestic things like grocery shopping instead of getting bubble tea and going to the arcade. Bokuto, who’s finally moved out of the Black Jackals’ dorms and got his own place about a month ago, is in desperate need of actual utensils and cannot, as per Akaashi, keep cooking and eating out of the same pot. So, after Kuroo had also revealed that he needed to buy an actual suit to wear for Kei’s cousin’s wedding, they decided to make a day trip of it and head over to one of the department stores and shop.

“Being an adult is disgustingly expensive,” Kuroo complains, after flipping over a pan to check the price tag only to immediately set it back down with a pained look. “Why does everything cost so much _money_.”

“You have high standards,” Kei hums, striding between the shelves of different sized wine glasses. He knows you have to use different ones if you’re drinking red or white or want more air in some or what the hell ever, but he’s never seen so many different options all together at once. “If you’re not fussy, you could get by with microwave soup-in-a-mug if you really wanted to.”

“What can I say? I’m an expensive boy. Maybe I should get Kenma to sponsor my research, then I can rest easy.”

“He’s already sponsoring Shoyou; as if he’d have time for your broke ass.”

Kuroo staggers, clutching his chest exaggeratedly. “Oh, you _wound_ me, Tsukki.”

Kei smirks and inspects a set of silverware. Down the aisle, he can hear Akaashi tell Bokuto that not all dishware is dishwasher safe, to Bokuto’s mounting confusion. “You sure you want your childhood friend to be your sugar daddy?”

Behind him, Kuroo makes a sudden choking noise. “D-D— _what_?”

Kei takes one glance at the horrified look on Kuroo’s face and bursts out laughing. “Oh, you are _so_ easy.”

“Tsukki,” Kuroo begs through crocodile tears, “Please never imply _Kenma_ and _daddy_ together in front of me ever again.”

“We’ll see,” Kei grins, wicked, and Kuroo whines until they’re distracted by Bokuto trying to buy a massive Keurig machine, and Akaashi’s increasingly desperate attempts to stop him.

“Bokuto-san, for the last time, you don’t even drink coffee—”

“But you do!” Bokuto cries, latching onto the machine like a man possessed. Akaashi’s grip on his arm slips slightly. “Omi-kun says they’re alright in terms of cleanliness, which is basically him saying that it’s great! I want you to drink great coffee when you stay over instead of the yucky ones at your office!”

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi whispers, and to Kei’s astonishment, the other man looks like he’s about to start crying.

“Man, Akaashi is whipped,” Kuroo sighs, fond, and intervenes before Akaashi can give in and let Bokuto buy out the entire stock of Keurig cups while he’s at it.

* * *

Surprisingly, Bokuto is the one who brings them into the suit store, and immediately starts leading Kuroo around it like he knows the place.

“I think his Captain brought him here once,” Akaashi hums, trailing unhurriedly after them between the shelves. “They had a charity banquet to attend a while back, and since half the young guys on the team either didn’t have actual suits or were still trying to fit into ones from their high school graduations, they apparently did a field trip or something to go buy new ones.”

Kei couldn’t imagine trying to corral a group of people as loud and energetic as Shoyou and Bokuto and Miya Atsumu into the same room, let alone through an upscale suit store. His respect for the Black Jackals’ Captain goes up a few notches. “Sounds like an absolute nightmare.”

Akaashi smiles. “So how have you been? I know we’ve been catching up all day, but it’s all light chats, anyway.”

“It’s—good, honestly. Could be better, but it’s mostly just because I’m busy. Once this whole wedding fiasco is over and my mom hops off my back, my schedule and stress level will clear right up.”

Akaashi hums. “You’re really alright with Kuroo-san being your date, then?”

Kei feels his neck and cheeks warm, and he pretends to find an interest in some of the silk ties on display. “Well, he’s still the same pain-in-the-ass Kuroo, if that’s what you're wondering.”

That manages to startle a little laugh out of Akaashi. “Well, you’re not wrong there. But you’re dodging the question, Tsukishima-kun. And I know you know what I’m asking.”

“...You’re too perceptive, Akaashi-san.”

“So I’m told.”

Somewhere on the other side of the store, he hears Kuroo holler _for the last time I am NOT wearing purple velvet_ , and Bokuto’s rambunctious laughter.

“What can I say? He’s back, we’re talking, and it’s like things were two years ago again.” Almost. Kind of. Not at all. Maybe?

Akaashi drums his fingers along the polished wood of the shelves. “I know you went through a bit of a tough spot emotionally when Kuroo-san left, Tsukishima-kun. I just wanted to make sure you’re not hurting yourself more with this wedding date business.”

Maybe there was a downside to Akaashi’s pragmatic-ness, Kei thinks. But the thought is fleeting, because out of all the people around him, Akaashi was the one he reached out to when it came to the aftermath of Kuroo leaving because he knew Akaashi would stay level-headed about it all. Tadashi and Hitoka would always be sympathetic, but Kei knew they’d be too soft on him. Shoyou was overseas, apparently having a rough time with the language barrier and finding chances to play, and Tobio was leaping between the literal Olympics, training, and trying to maintain a long-distance relationship. None of them were ready to take on Kei’s one-sided romantic bullshit woes.

But Akaashi, who’s known Kuroo longer than Kei has and has dealt with his own moments with overthinking and self-pitying, was the one who coaxed him out of his funk and encouraged him to look at the problem logically.

_“You can’t change the fact that he’s in England right now,” Akaashi had said. “Or the fact that you never confessed before he left. But you can give this time for yourself and don’t think of the past as something you have to regret. It’ll cut you up, because the past is the past. However, when Kuroo-san comes back—yes, when, Tsukishima-kun, because I know he’s going to—you can try again.”_

Of course, now that Kuroo is actually back, ‘trying again’ is a lot easier said than done, as much as Kei would like everything to work out.

“I’m alright,” Kei mumbles. “I mean—he reached out to me. And like you said, I wanted to try again, maybe. I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” Akaashi says, thoughtful. “You’ve always been rather hard on yourself, you know.”

Kei chuckles. “Coming from you? I must have it bad.”

“Touché,” Akaashi admits. “But you know, you shouldn’t be so worried about trying to guess what Kuroo’s response might be. After all, you understand him more than you know.”

“What?” Kei asks, but they’re interrupted by Bokuto skidding over, a huge grin on his face.

“Gentlemen,” he says, “I present to you, the star of the show, the cat’s meow of Tokyo, and a _dazzling_ specimen of a man—”

“Oh my god, shut up, Kou,” Kuroo huffs, stomping into view, and if Kei had been holding something he would’ve one hundred percent dropped it.

Kuroo looks good. He looks so, so good.

The suit is a deep, rousing red, with faint patterns on the lower half of the jacket. It had matching pants, the red dark enough that it almost looks black at an angle. It’s three-piece, currently tailored at the sleeves and hem by a few pins, but that just makes it even more form-fitting around Kuroo’s shoulders and legs. The buttons are bright, polished until they shone, and the shirt beneath the vest is crisp and white. There’s a few bowties laid over Kuroo’s shoulder, a black, checkered, and a patterned slate-grey one.

He’s stunning.

“Tsukki?” Kuroo asks, raising his arms. He’s smiling, but he looks a little apprehensive. “What do you think?”

“Really good,” Kei blurts out without thinking, and promptly blushes up to his hairline. Kuroo jerks a little, eyes going wide. “I mean. Uh, I think. You look good. You—you look very good.” He clears his throat, suddenly at a loss for words. “I like it. It’s a nice pattern.”

“Oh,” Kuroo says, sounding a little faint. He brushes his palms down the front of his jacket and inadvertently over the flat expense of his torso—a nervous tic—and Kei’s eyes fall like magnets to Kuroo’s hands and follows the motions as though in a trance. 

Someone clears their throat, and Kei jumps. Bokuto is looking between the two of them, arms crossed over his chest, a weirdly knowing grin on his face. He catches sight of the slightly-harried salesperson, who’s watching their whole silent exchange from afar with minor judgement on his face, and waves exaggeratedly.

“ ‘Scuse me, sir? I think my friend here will _definitely_ take this one.”

* * *

The izakaya they pop into for dinner is a bustling one, packed full of young people out for a night of fun. They squeeze into a table in the corner of the room and stuff their shopping under their seats, with Akaashi and Bokuto on one side and Kei and Kuroo on the other. They pluck the menus from the stand and immediately order a heaping pile of takoyaki, gyoza, karaage, edamame, and soup.

Bokuto turns over the specials menu and jabs dramatically at the featured drinks. “Saturday Night Sake Bombs,” he grins, waggling his eyebrows.

“Bokuto-san, no,” Akaashi says at once.

“Bokuto-san, _yes_ ,” Bokuto replies, and snags another passing waiter before his boyfriend could protest.

“Is he that bad?” Kei whispers to Kuroo, who chuckles and leans over. His breath is warm, too warm, against the shell of Kei’s ear.

“It’s not Bokuto he’s worried about,” Kuroo says, conspiritally, and deliberately leaves it vague, choosing instead to laugh at the frown on Kei’s face.

And he was right—Bokuto, with the might and power and (most importantly) the metabolism of a professional athlete, is just a cheerful, happy drunk. Kuroo is the same, more languid than usual, and his laughter louder. Kei feels as sloshed as he appears, insides warm and his cheeks flushed, eyes bleary and so hot around the neck and shoulders (this is why he only drinks Kahlua, honestly). But Akaashi is drunk. He’s _drunk_ drunk.

“—and then they asked me just the one thing, not the whole thing, but the one thing and I didn’t even say it once,” Akaashi whines, face half-mashed into Bokuto’s chest, the mixture of sake and beer spilling slightly from the glass in his hand. Bokuto laughs, his arm slung around Akaashi’s shoulder, and cradles his boyfriend close.

“They didn’t! What did you tell them next?”

Kei has already completely lost track of the conversation. He couldn’t tell you what Akaashi was talking about even if you paid him, and judging from the way Kuroo is hiccuping over giggles next to him, the other man is the same way.

He looks so soft underneath the izakaya’s mood lighting.

Kei reaches out and pinches Kuroo’s nose, making the other jump and blink at him. Fuck, he’s so adorable.

“Whatcha laughing about,” Kei asks, wagging his finger in front of Kuroo’s face.

Kuroo grins, sweet and happy. “Nuthin’,” he says, and grabs Kei’s hand. His hands are large, still calloused from years of volleyball, and for some reason, that makes Kei happy.

“Your pinky,” Kuroo says, tilting Kei’s hand up until it was eye level. “ ‘S crooked.”

It was the one he’d dislocated in Karasuno’s finals match against Shiratorizawa in his first year, which felt like eons ago. His finger and the cut had healed quickly without any major problems, but the joint now sat slightly shifted despite their best efforts and was, like Kuroo had noticed, a little crooked.

“Cute,” Kuroo coos, running his finger over the bump in Kei’s knuckle. “I remember watching the footage after… swear my heart stopped when Ushijima spiked into your hand. I felt that shit.”

Ah, the curse of being a middle blocker, something they both know well—to willingly stick their hands up in front of power spikes from players like Bokuto and Ushijima, to bite their lips at stinging palms and cracked nails as they slap a bandage over it to stay in the game, to ice fat joints and wait for the swelling to go down and for their sprains to heal.

Kuroo is still holding his hand, Kei realizes. Still turning his palm in different directions, engrossed in the shape of his finger. In the background, barely heard over the noise of the bar, an English song plays overhead. The sounds of the deep bass guitar, a light snare drum with rich brass instruments, and the throaty croon of the woman’s voice washes over them like a gentle wave.

_‘Cause you’re my fella my guy, hand me your Stella and fly_

_By the time I’m out the door, you tear men down like Roger Moore_

“Tsukki, do you still like volleyball?” Kuroo whispers, thumb now brushing along the life and love lines on his palm. The touch leaves something fiery and aching in Kei’s chest.

“Once in a blue moon, it’s fun,” he whispers back. Kuroo grins, nostalgic and seemingly satisfied, but Kei isn’t done. “But it’s not as fun without you.”

Kuroo’s mouth parts in surprise. He stares, a jumble of fleeting emotions crossing his face. Kei holds his gaze, willing Kuroo to know—to _understand_.

The woman sings on, her song wrapping tighter around them.

_Sweet reunion, Jamaica and Spain_

_We’re like how we were again_

* * *

They made it back to Bokuto’s apartment just before midnight, causing more noise than was probably respectable in the lobby due to their inebriation and the sheer number of pots and pans Bokuto brought at the store.

“Holy shit,” Kei says the second he steps into the foyer, frozen in amazement as he takes it all in. “Your...place, Bokuto.”

“It’s still a little messy, I know,” Bokuto says sheepishly, hurrying in and pushing a couple of empty boxes to the side. “Akaashi’s been bugging me to send photo updates of my cleaning progress, but it’s sooo tiring to unpack!”

“You’ll feel better ‘bout your space once you stop living out of your own suitcase, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi slurs, and hustles off with a level of concentration only capable by drunk people to sort Bokuto’s new appliances in his kitchen. His enormous, shiny kitchen, with a stainless steel fridge and endless countertop space and a sleek glass top stove. It faces a dining area and an open concept living room, which is still mostly empty and consists of more unopened boxes, but the ceiling is high and airy and it’s got those tiny, sparkly little ceiling lights that makes the area glow. There’s three rooms, one of which is clearly Bokuto’s own, and a spacious bathroom with an actual tub at the end of the hall. It’s even bigger than Tobio and Shoyou’s place.

Kei makes eye contact with Kuroo, who shoots him a grin and nearly falls over taking his shoes off.

“Bein’ a Division 1 professional volleyball player really hits different, don’t it?”

“No kidding. Fuck, is that the new Switch? And a _roomba_? What the hell, Bokuto.”

“Heh, a roomba,” Kuroo laughs, stumbling into the apartment. “Roomba-san, good evening.”

“Fuck, you’re a mess.”

From the sounds of the kitchen, he hears Bokuto gently ushering Akaashi away from his new utensils, murmuring, “Keiji, Keiji, babe, you’re blasted.”

“ ‘M not.”

“Yes you are, babe, you’re trying to put the blender into the fridge.”

“...huh. I am?”

"Yup. C'mon! Let's get you to bed."

"Mmm. Bokuto-san?"

"Yeah?"

"I want an onigiri from Onigiri Miya."

There’s a soft laugh, more shuffling, and Bokuto appears, pulling Akaashi with him. “I’ll get the pullout sofa ready in a sec,” he whispers. “If you want pillows—”

“Ah, no need,” Kuroo interrupts. “We can split the guest bed, can’t we, Tsukki?”

Kei’s heart nearly gives out. “What?”

Kuroo’s arm winds around his shoulder again, tugging him along, and says, “It’s a queen, dontcha worry. As long as you don’t kick, we’re good.”

Kei knows he doesn’t kick, but apparently, according to Akiteru, if he’s sleeping on the wrong angle he snores like a freight train. Suddenly, he feels a desperate need to text his older brother and ask how loud he does snore.

His moment of distraction is costly—Kuroo wheels him around and pushes Kei right into the guest room, calling a loud goodnight to Bokuto and Akaashi; the former is promising a whole tray of onigiri if Akaashi would go lie down and stop organizing his silverware.

It _is_ a nice, big queen bed, with fresh grey sheets and squashy pillows to match. There’s a fluffy-looking throw over the duvet, guest slippers tucked behind the door, and an empty closet open for them. Through the half-closed blinds, Kei could see the glittering lights from the city below.

“Fuck,” Kuroo sighs, flopping face-first into the bed. “I am dead. Wake me up in twenty-four hours.”

“You’re still in your jeans,” Kei says, drawing the blinds closed. “Go change.”

“Nuh-uh,” Kuroo says, voice muffled into the pillow. “I wanna sleep.”

Kei reaches over and pinches his side, making Kuroo leap up and yelp.

“Go to the bathroom and change,” Kei insists. “Because I want to sleep and I gotta change and you smell like beer.”

Kuroo harrumphs, and then nearly gives Kei a heart attack by stripping his shirt right off without warning.

“What are you doing?!” Kei shrieks. Kuroo is shirtless— _shirtless!_ —before him, still as fit as he’s ever been, and Kei hates that he can’t stop staring. God, how is it that he’s got a stomach full of beer and still be this thirsty?

“Bwah? Changing,” Kuroo says, blinking at him. His eyes have gone half-lidded now and he’s clearly ready to fall asleep on the spot. “Aw, c’mon, Tsukki, we’re both dudes. Nothin’ you haven’t seen in a changeroom before.”

“One of my teammates has a tattoo on his ass,” Kei says, suddenly feeling the need to mention that. “If I see a tattoo on yours I’ll throw you out.”

Kuroo splutters. “A tattoo _where_? Hey, wait, don’t look at my ass, Tsukki! I'm not ready for that!"

“I’m not looking!”

“What? Why aren’t you looking? My ass is amazing!”

Kuroo’s rewarded with Kei’s shirt flying into his face, and a second later they both wheeze with laughter, clutching their sides.

"Ugh, maybe I'm still a little drunk."

“Okay, shut up, shut up, we’re gonna wake Akaashi-san.”

“Oh, trust me, Akaashi is _not_ going to sleep right now,” Kuroo smirks, finally managing to pull on a sleep shirt and pyjama pants. There are little cartoon cats on them. “Or Bokuto, for that matter.”

Kei whirls around in horror, arm stuck in the sleeve of his shirt. “What? No. No, no, no.”

“Oh yes,” Kuroo laughs, tumbling into the sheets. “You better hurry and get in bed, or you’ll still be awake when they start going at it.”

He burrows his way under the duvets and tugs the corner off Kei’s side, patting the space welcomingly. Kei must also be a little drunk still, because even though his heart is going a mile a minute he’s surprisingly coordinated and candid about kicking his pants off, forgoing anything in favour of just sleeping in his boxers and curling up under the blanket too. Kuroo makes a strangled little noise beside him, but once Kei reaches over to turn off the lamp on the nightstand and plunges them into darkness, they both manage to settle.

Kei exhales slowly and lets his muscles untense, bit by bit, until he’s melted into the soft mattress and even softer pillows that smell refreshingly of laundry detergent. Beside him, Kuroo shifts until he’s managed to punch his pillow into a comfortable shape. The room is silent save for their light breathing, and Kei closes his eyes, relishing in the heat that he can feel spreading over from Kuroo’s side of the bed. This is nice. This is very, very nice.

And then, there’s a muffled thump from the other side of the apartment, what sounds _suspiciously_ like a choked-off moan, and Kei stiffens like a board.

“Aw, c’mon,” Kuroo groans. “Horny bastards.”

Another thump, and Kei can’t stifle the desperate laugh that escapes him.

“I’d bring out your headphones now if you want any sanity for the night, Tsukki,” Kuroo whispers, apparently trying to bury himself under the pillows. “I'm not kidding when I say Bokuto has the stamina of a professional athlete.”

“Oh, fuck you, I did _not_ need to know that.”

Still, he digs his headphones out from his bag, throws a sleep playlist on, and settles in for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This](https://resources.realestate.co.jp/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/Roppongi-Hills-Residence-C-Living-For-Rent.png) is the apartment layout I used for Bokuto’s place; funnily enough it’s in Roppongi Hills lmao (judgemental Kenma face). Also, he definitely has the brand new Animal Crossing themed Switch.
> 
> The song playing in the bar is Amy Winehouse’s ‘[You Know I'm No Good](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-I2s5zRbHg)'. Also, drunk!Akaashi is Leslie Knope on snake juice.
> 
> thank you for reading!


	5. Tsukishima Kei Takes Drastic Action

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's wedding time!! This chapter is brought to you by intense pining, champagne, and a cute lil' interaction at the end.
> 
> enjoy!

The first thing he wakes up to is a dry mouth.

A terrible, nasty, tongue-sticking dry mouth. Kei winces and swallows tightly, feeling his throat click from the lack of moisture. Okay, he's definitely a bit hungover, but that's to be expected.

The second thing he recognizes is the weight of an arm around his waist, the feeling of warmth pressed against his back, and the soft puffs of air on the nape of his neck as Kuroo sleeps soundly on from where he is, essentially, spooning Kei.

Valiantly, Kei does not scream out loud at eight-thirty on a Sunday morning. He does scream a little internally, though.

The events from the night before come traipsing through his mind like an elephant loose at a circus. The izakaya. Sake Bombs. Going back to Bokuto’s apartment. The two of them drunkenly changing and laughing and reacting in their horror at hearing their friends go at it. And now, this.

It also doesn't help that he's got his legs tangled against Kuroo's, which is entirely his own fault because his feet get cold easily when he sleeps and he knows that he'd instinctively sought out nearby warmth to counter it.

In short, they're spooning. Like a couple.

Heart pounding in his chest, he peeks over his shoulder, blinking blearily at the mass of dark hair behind him. Kuroo’s shoulder rises and falls slowly with each breath, so steady that he’s got to be in a deep sleep still, and when Kei shifts a little too much he makes a grumbly sound and snuggles closer. Kei chokes on air and turns back around, facing the blinds as he tries to calm his heart rate. 

Kuroo’s arm is so warm around his waist, the weight comforting and secure. The tip of his nose is pressed between Kei’s shoulderblades now, the placement so intimate and personal that it makes him blush bright red. The bed now smells of detergent and sleep and, admittedly, a bit like beer, but also a little bit like whatever shampoo Kuroo uses. His traitorous brain immediately conjures up a scenario where they live together, share a room together, go out together and then collapse in bed, laughing drunkenly, and wake up comfortably together.

What he wouldn’t give for it to be real.

The whimsical thought strikes Kei harder than he thought it would, and the hurt and want stuns him enough that he sits up, trembling, and crawls out of bed before he could take advantage of the situation anymore. He shouldn’t be snuggling with Kuroo—they aren’t dating, and they’d just started talking after two years apart.

He has no right.

Kuroo makes a quiet noise behind him, brow furrowed cutely as he slumps over at Kei’s recently vacated spot, and Kei hates that he wants to crawl back into bed with the other man and kiss away the pinched spot between his eyebrows. Instead, he pulls his pants on, grabs his toiletries, and shuffles out of the guest room.

He’s not quite expecting Bokuto to already be up, humming quietly to himself as he fusses about his brand new Keurig machine in a pair of sweatpants and an old Fukurodani gym shirt.

“Tsukki! Mornin’,” Bokuto grins, way too sunny and bright. Kei squints at him.

“How...are you so alive,” he asks. “Why aren’t you dead from dry mouth like the rest of us.”

Bokuto shrugs. “Dunno! I feel great. I’ve never been hungover before though, to be honest, so I don’t really know how that feels.”

“I hate you,” Kei says vehemently.

“Heh, you’re funny, Tsukki! You want coffee? I’m about to put the kettle on too, if you want tea.”

Kei weighs his options and decides that he doesn't need to add caffeine to his already cotton-filled brain. “Green tea, if you have any. I’m just going to brush my teeth.”

“Sounds good!” Bokuto calls. “I’m gonna make rice and egg after too!”

He feels marginally better once his mouth stops tasting like last night’s takoyaki and the eye crust has been washed from his face. True to his word, Bokuto is working away at the stovetop, carefully frying some eggs and cooking vegetables on the side.

“Anything I can help with?”

“Ah, maybe if you can unpack the bowls from the shopping bags? Or they might not be in the bags, Akaashi did manage to hide a lot of stuff before I stopped him.”

The bowls are, thankfully, still in their wrappings, and by the time Kei manages to scoop rice into each of them and Bokuto is placing the sides on serving dishes, Kuroo and Akaashi have managed to rouse themselves from bed as well.

“Fuck me,” Kuroo groans, shuffling over to the sink so he could stick his head under the tap and drink. Akaashi pulls out a chair at the table and immediately puts his head down in his arms.

“Here you go, babe,” Bokuto says happily, setting a piping hot cup of black coffee in front of Akaashi. Akaashi looks like he’s two seconds away from either hurling or falling back asleep, and just weakly tugs the mug closer to him.

“Stop it, what’re you, a dog?” Kei asks, lightly whapping Kuroo with a towel as he goes to put food on the table. “I’ll get you a glass, sit your ass down.”

“You’re the best,” Kuroo whines, and slumps over in the seat beside Akaashi. His bedhead is even worse than usual. “God, I think something died in my mouth. Do you have any aspirin?”

A little bottle clinks onto the table, and Kei has to wonder when in the world Bokuto became the responsible one out of them all as they sit down for breakfast.

“Did you guys sleep well?”

“Would’ve been better if we didn’t have to hear you two horn dogs going at it,” Kuroo jabs. Akaashi’s face turns an impressive shade of crimson while Bokuto laughs, scratching his head sheepishly.

“My bad! It’s been too long since the two of us got to see each other in person too, so we got carried away!”

“Stop right there,” Kuroo says, holding a hand up. “I’m about to eat this delicious egg,  _ do not _ explain any further. I don’t want to hear any details.”

“I’m so sorry,” Akaashi whispers, clearly mortified.

“Ah, I’m just teasing ya. We slept alright together, didn’t we, Tsukki?” Kuroo shoots Kei a conspiratorial wink, and Kei’s mouthful of rice almost goes down the wrong way.  _ Why _ did he have to say it like that?

“Oya?” Bokuto says, wagging his eyebrows suggestively, but yelps when Akaashi prods him in the side.

“Don’t tease,” Akaashi chides softly. He takes a sip of his black coffee, winces, and gets up to search the fridge for cream. He pauses when he opens the door, his eyebrows drawing downward in confusion.

"Why is the blender inside of the fridge?"

* * *

“Sooo, how did suit shopping go?”

“What? Fine,” Kei says, not looking up from the answer key. He’s on the last page of the practice quiz, and so far, Tobio has scored maybe about twelve of the fifty-two questions right.

“Ehh? Stingy,” Shoyou huffs, rolling over on the couch to look down at them. “Details! I want  _ details _ .”

“I don’t know what kind of details you expect me to provide,” Kei snaps, hurling an eraser over his shoulder without looking. A dull  _ whap _ and a yell tells him he’s hit his mark, though. “We got Kuroo a suit and that was that. Did you even study any of this?” he adds, looking up at a scowling Tobio. “I’m genuinely serious. You scored twenty-three percent.”

Shoyou bursts out laughing, and yells again when Tobio whips a cushion at him.

“Children! Children, please,” Miya Atsumu says, whom Kei assumes is crashing Tobio’s Saturday tutoring session mainly because he has no other friends to bother. “Are you Karasuno kids always so dramatic?”

“We were worse in high school,” Shoyou says matter-of-factly. “One time in first year, Tobio and I got into a fight so bad Tanaka-senpai had to punch us to break it up.”

“That explains a lot about you two, actually.”

“People that aren’t currently  _ studying _ right now, shut up,” Kei says, smiling a death smile at the two main offenders in the apartment. “I am  _ trying _ to make sure the Adlers’ starting setter doesn’t flunk out of his own college courses, but you are all testing my already limited patience.”

“I’m not gonna flunk!” Tobio protests, grabbing the answer key and glaring down at it like it’ll change his grade.

“Hey, this is my own house!” Shoyou protests.

Miya plucks a cracker out of an open bag and crunches loudly. “Why’d you have to go suit shopping, Tsukishima?”

“He’s got a wedding!” Shoyou shouts, doing a somersault off his couch like it’s normal. A vein in Kei’s forehead throbs.

“Really? Congratulations,” Miya says, blinking. “Who’s the lucky partner?”

“What? No, I’m not getting married, my cousin is,” Kei splutters. “Don’t phrase it like that, Shoyou.”

“I got number 18 right!” Tobio protests, jabbing his page. “The answer key is wrong.”

“The answer key is  _ not _ wrong, there were two possible answers and option D clearly says ‘A and B are correct’,” Kei counters irritably. “What did I say about reading the question through? I’ve been telling you since third year, you always jump ahead of yourself and pick the first answer that looks about right instead of making sure there isn’t a better option hidden somewhere in the other answers! Read the goddamn questions!”

“Wow,” Miya remarks, watching Tobio steam from the ears. “You’re brutal, Tsukishima.”

“Don’t worry, Kei’s really just a tsun,” Shoyou says, sounding far too knowledgeable for Kei’s liking. “He’s stressed because this is like, the third time Tobio’s misread a test question,  _ and _ he’s grouchy because he’s pining after his wedding date.”

“Have you ever heard of the term over-sharing?” Kei demands the same time Miya sits up and goes, “Oof. That kinda sucks. Is it unreciprocated?”

“Obviously not,” Tobio says. “If Kei would get his head out of his ass for more than ten seconds, he’d—”

“I am not taking dating advice from someone who scored twenty-three percent on a practice quiz,” Kei yells.

“What’s the practice quiz got to do with anything?” Tobio yells back. “And  _ I’m _ actually dating, so I’m clearly more qualified, and maybe if you’d suck it up and talked to Kuroo about your feelings you wouldn’t be pulling your hair out over it!”

“Oh my god,” Miya says, practically shovelling crackers into his mouth as he looks between them like they’re a riveting tennis match. “I am understanding so much more about Karasuno as a whole right now.”

“Uh, Kei, please don’t kill my boyfriend over this,” Shoyou says nervously, clutching at a pillow. “We finally worked out the chore schedule and it’s gonna be a real pain trying to figure it out with someone else.”

Silently, Kei does his best to remind himself that he cannot kill an old teammate slash rival turned kind of a close friend, and especially not when his cousin’s wedding is less than a week away. Forget the authorities; his mom would bury him alive if he missed it.

“We are going over this again,” he says, flipping the quiz back to page one and pushing his glasses up his nose. “And we aren’t going to stop  _ until you fucking get it right _ .”

Tobio, to his credit, doesn’t snark back this time.

* * *

Tobio’s words, spot-on despite being totally uncalled for, strike him deeper than he’d care to admit.

But then again, Kei despises to think, he wouldn’t be in this situation if he did suck it up and talked to Kuroo about how he felt.

...alright, maybe it was a little called for.

* * *

November 29th arrives, sunny and cold, with only a very light dusting of frost on the rooftops.

For the third time, Kuroo shows up at Kei’s door with his overnight bags. This time, there’s also a long, plastic zippered bag that contains his brand new suit.

“Hi,” Kei says, opening the door wide to let Kuroo in. “Thanks for coming all this way.”

Kuroo blinks at him, looking faintly dazed, and Kei wonders how early he must’ve had to get up to catch the first train from Tokyo. “Do you want coffee? I’ve got a fresh pot.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo says, stumbling into the den. He seems thoroughly distracted. “That would be great—and, uh, also, wow, you’re already in your suit?”

“Yeah,” Kei grumbles, helping Kuroo put his bags on the couch before heading into the kitchen to find a mug. It’s an older suit, just one he brought for interviews a while back, but it’s tidy and a neutral dark blue and looks fine with the cream-coloured tie he’d picked out. It  _ is _ a little tighter though, especially around his shoulders and thighs and unfortunately his ass, but it’ll do. “Akiteru is going to come pick us up soon; my parents want photos before we all go to the ceremony.”

“Guess I better get changed then,” Kuroo grins, running his fingers through his hair. “Gotta do something about this lustrous mane of mine.”

“Unless you’ve found a way to make it lie permanently flat, I wouldn’t bother.”

“You’re a cruel, cruel man, Tsukki.”

“Shut up and get dressed,” Kei smirks, and goes to pour out a cup of coffee for Kuroo while mentally psyching himself up for seeing Kuroo in that suit again. It’s just a suit. It’s just a suit. Just a suit—

The bathroom door opens, accompanied by the sound of socked feet walking down the hallway, and Kuroo enters the kitchen.

It isn’t just a suit after all.

Kei nearly spills the coffee when his hand goes slack for a hot second; he barely recovers in time and quickly sets the mug down on the table before he could drop it again, pushing it towards Kuroo.

“Is that for me?” Kuroo asks, eagerly accepting the drink. “God, you’re the fucking best.”

Kei nods, not trusting himself to speak. At the store, the suit looked really good—that much he’s established. But now, with the jacket and pants tailored to perfection and to fit every line of Kuroo’s body, he looked  _ fucking _ good. He’s tall, broad, handsome, and has been the ideal man Kei’s chased after in terms of both volleyball  _ and  _ a boyfriend, and—god, Kuroo is too much. It also didn’t help that the red reminded him deeply of Nekoma’s uniform. It’s almost the same bold, sharp colour that had wrapped around Kuroo as he smirked at Kei from the other side of the net. He’d made an attempt on his hair too, pushing his bangs back as far as they’d allow with no small amount of hair wax, but a few rebellious strands still escaped the treatment. It’s ridiculously endearing.

Without thinking, Kei reached over and brushed his palm against Kuroo’s forehead, sweeping the sneaky strands back into shape.

When he lowers his hand, Kuroo is standing frozen, mug halfway raised, lips parted slightly in surprise. Kei staunchly refuses to feel embarrassed, even as his fingertips tremble.

“If you’re going to do your hair, at least make it look good.”

“Well, that’s what I’ve got you for,” Kuroo blurts out, and then looks like he immediately regrets it, if his bright red face and sudden attempts to finish his piping hot coffee in two gulps was any indication.

_ You’ve got me _ , Kei wants so badly to say. He wants to seize Kuroo by the collar of his suit, push him up against the wall, and kiss him until he gets it.  _ Fuck, you’ve had me since high school _ .

A pinging from his phone startles them both. Scrambling for the device on his countertop, Kei heaves a sigh when he sees a text from Akiteru, telling him he’s five minutes away.

“C’mon,” Kei says, squaring his shoulders and mentally bracing himself for what would, undoubtedly, be a crazy day. “We’ve got a wedding to go to.”

* * *

“Kei-kun!” Kaori cries, gathering him into a warm hug as the happy couple makes their way around the reception hall. “It’s been so long! How are you?”

“Good,” Kei replies, and he does manage a real smile. It’s been years since he’s hung out with his cousins, but he’s always liked Kaori despite their mothers’ eternal feud. Said women were busy talking by another table nearby, already lowkey squabbling by the looks of it. His father has wisely taken refuge at the buffet table. “Congratulations, you must be so happy.”

Kaori beams; she looks stunning in a long, pearly-white wedding dress and her hair done up in an elegant knot. In the seat to his right, Kuroo is shaking her new husband’s hand, making light small talk. 

“I definitely would’ve been happier if mom didn’t have a freakout over the makeup crew right before we got to the church, but in all honesty, it was pretty tame compared to what she’s used to.”

“I heard her threatening a busboy when we came in earlier,” Kei grins. “But that’s none of our business; we’re just here to toast the two of you.”

Kaori rolls her eyes. “Listen, the only way I’ve been able to handle her is ‘cause Hikaru’s been supplying me with shots of rum all day,” she whispers conspiratorially. “It sucks that the dress doesn’t have pockets, you know? But he went and secretly added an extra pocket into his suit for the flask!”

“He’s perfect for you,” Kei says, completely honest, and it makes his cousin burst out laughing.

“Oh, we ought to catch up,” she giggles. “Me and Hikaru, you and your boyfriend! Let’s make it a double date sometime!”

Kei really should be used to blushing by now; it seems like that’s all he’s been doing for the last month and a half. “He’s not—ah, Kuroo’s just my date for the evening.”

“Aw,” Kaori says, crestfallen, and turns to Kuroo. “Kuroo-san! I thought for sure you’d be the one!”

“Kaori,” Kei hisses as Kuroo blinks at her in confusion.

“Kei-kun used to show up to all the family weddings with those famous volleyball players, so when mom told us that you were bringing someone new we were so sure he’d finally gotten a boyfriend! It’s not everyday we meet someone who can keep up with his bluntness, and we all got so excited.”

“I’ll tell your husband about that new year’s mochi incident from when we were twelve, Kaori, don’t test me,” Kei jabs back, and Kaori gasps exaggeratedly, grabbing his arm.

“You wouldn’t!”

“Mochi incident?” Hikaru asks, intrigued.

“Don’t ask,” Kaori warns, and pouts at Kei. “You’re mean, Kei-kun. I take it back, Kuroo-san must be a saint to put up with you for today.”

“Kei’s great,” Kuroo says, and he’s got a surprisingly soft look in his eye as he speaks. “Don’t worry, I had a great time with him as his date.”

Kaori and Hikaru exchange looks, and then both of them glance at Kei knowingly.

“Alright,” Kei splutters, not liking their identical grins. “We won’t keep you both; we know you have lots of other family to see.”

“Of course,” Kaori replies, cheeky. “I’ll see you two around!”

“Focus on your newlywed life first, Kaori.”

“Congrats again!” Kuroo calls over his shoulder, and Kei rolls his eyes as the couple leaves. “Hah, your cousin is funny.”

“Don’t—she doesn’t need any more encouragement.”

Despite his usual aversion and disdain for weddings, Kei has to admit that the reception venue is beautiful. His cousin and her husband had chosen a historical inn in the quieter suburbs of Sendai, which he could appreciate as a slight history buff. The atmosphere is very appropriate for a winter wedding—the hall is illuminated by warm, glowing lights, beautiful tablecloths and fine china, and even though the flower wall looks ridiculously out of place, it lends to the grand atmosphere from where it stands by the entryway of the dining hall.

“Hello, kids,” Saeko hums, returning from her trip to the buffet table with desserts and a tall flute of champagne, Akiteru following close behind. Kei’s rather envious of how relaxed she is; despite her bold leopard print dress and newly-dyed platinum blond hair, she clearly doesn’t give a shit about the way people have been blatantly staring all evening. She’s got Akiteru’s jacket draped over her shoulders, though, and Kei gives his older brother a shit-eating grin as they sit back down. The deadpan glare he gets in return warns him not to say a damn word.

“Mom’s coming back with Aunt Mika right now, Kei,” Akiteru whispers, stressed. “Be prepared.”

“Oh, fu—”

“Kei! Akiteru!”

“Too late,” Saeko hums softly, taking a long drink, and the brothers brace themselves as their aunt descends upon them.

It  _ was _ kind of funny watching his Aunt Mika take one look at Kuroo and unleash her questions on him, barely bothering to conceal her inquiries underneath appropriate social norms. Kei’s been through this process a million times by now with all sorts of relatives; Shoyou is a natural conversationalist and possesses an insane amount of unstoppable enthusiasm, and trying to talk to Tobio about anything other than volleyball is akin to asking a brick wall what its hobbies were. Kuroo, the newest face in their group, plays along in the nicest way possible, complimenting her when necessary and subtly stonewalling her when her questions get too personal.

But even the self-proclaimed provocation master has his limits; after his aunt’s fifth time asking Kuroo to say something else in English, Kei takes mercy on the other man and intervenes.

“Sorry, Aunt Mika, I’ve been meaning to take a photo with Kuroo by the flower wall since we got here,” he lies, placing a hand on Kuroo’s shoulder. He feels the tense muscles beneath the fabric ease instantly. “It’s so popular, I’m afraid we won’t have a chance if we don’t go now.”

“Oh? Oh, yes, go and take your photos!” his aunt simpers, clearly pleased someone was enjoying the flower wall. “Those are fresh baby’s breath amongst the Italian roses—it cost a fortune!”

“Really? Ah, we mustn’t let it go to waste then. Come along, Kuroo.”

“Let me help you guys take the photos,” Akiteru says at once, almost knocking his chair over with how fast he stands.

“Oh? I’m out of champagne,” Saeko says, although it’s hard to tell if she was just making a convenient excuse or just wants another drink. “Up and at it, boys.”

“Bandwagoner,” Kei whispers to Akiteru as they all shuffle away as one.

“Oh, c’mon, she’s  _ insufferable _ ,” Akiteru hisses back. “I could tell she was gonna make a comment about my jacket next, I’m not hanging around for that.”

“That’s your own damn fault. Just ask Saeko out already, wimp.”

“Shh!” Akiteru winces, slapping a hand over Kei’s mouth. Kei grunts and worms away from his brother. “Stop it, you’re too loud.”

“What I am is walking away from you so I can take photos.”

“Oi, Akiteru, I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m out of champagne,” Saeko calls, holding up her empty glass. “Let’s go get cocktails!”

Kei huffs a small sigh of relief when the two hustle off; he knows he’s being snippy with his brother, but it seems like the wedding stress has gotten to them both since Akiteru is being equally grumbly. Just a little longer, Kei tells himself. Two or three more hours and then he and Kuroo could head back to his apartment and stop pretending to play nice with everyone.

“Hey, Tsukki, hurry up,” Kuroo prods, and points up at the towering wall of flowers. “There’s nobody taking pictures right now!”

“What? No, I wasn’t serious—”

“What’s that? I can’t hear you,” Kuroo sing-songs, and tugs Kei forward by his wrist. Kei’s brain blanks instantly, and he nearly backs into the wall when Kuroo spins him around. The dizzying coyness of floral scents surround him, making his head swim. “C’mon, we need something to commemorate this night! All this good food, good atmosphere, good people—”

“My aunt just literally asked every invasive question known to man about your yearly salary and personal hygiene.”

“ _ Some  _ good people,” Kuroo amends, pinching his side, and Kei tries to put up a front as Kuroo pulls him close. He throws an arm around Kei’s shoulders and leans in, smushing their cheeks together and holding up his phone. Kei could see himself on the screen, expression not unlike a small deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. Kuroo is so warm beside him. And is he—is he wearing cologne?

“Smile!” Kuroo says, cheeky, and takes the picture. “Okay, one more, funny face now.”

“Seriously?”

“Just grin or something, Tsukki, since you’ve always got that lil’ pouty face—ow! Okay! Jeez!”

“Watch it,” Kei snickers, and finally gives in—he can feel Kuroo’s cheeks shift, and he smiles at the very last second, a wide, genuine one right as the phone clicks. Kuroo straightens and Kei delights in the way his expression changes when realization hits; first surprise, then awe, and then a full-faced blush.  _ Cute _ , his brain supplies, in the most unhelpful way.

“Tsukki,” Kuroo says, turning to him with wide eyes, and Kei feigns nonchalance, adjusting his glasses. He’s largely unsuccessful.

“You asked,” he grumbles.

“You’re beautiful,” Kuroo breathes, voice breaking at the end, and Kei’s heart comes to a standstill.

The noise of the reception fades around him; suddenly, nothing matters in the hall except for Kuroo. He’s staring so intently at Kei, framed by the unending wall of flowers, slate grey eyes on him and nobody else.

They’re standing so, so close. It’s electrifying.

Kei leans in, tilts his head, and presses his lips against Kuroo’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reception venue is inspired by a real historical inn called Sakan Ryokan in Sendai, which looks absolutely amazing.
> 
> Last chapter coming up! I’m sorry for the cliffhanger LOL
> 
> thanks for reading!


	6. Kuroo Tetsurou and Tsukishima Kei Make The Most Out Of Someone Else’s Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last! I present to you the final chapter of what I've come to call the "intensely silly pining kurotsuki fic". It only took us like, 25k+ words to get this point, so I thank you for sticking with this story all the way!
> 
> Please note that I've upped the rating of the fic to Mature. It's nothing overly-descriptive, but if you'd like to skip, please jump ahead from "They barely make it over the threshold" to "The first thing he wakes up to"
> 
> enjoy!

Soft.

Kuroo’s lips are surprisingly soft. A little chapped on the bottom from the cold winter air, yes, but still soft. Soft, and warm. Soft and warm and pliant with surprise.

Kei squeezes his eyes shut and allows himself one more second of that comfort; his hands flutter uselessly by his sides, a result of his brain just barely catching up with what his body has decided to do without any warning.

He’s kissing Kuroo. God, fuck,  _ god _ , he’s kissing Kuroo, he’s actually kissing  _ Kuroo Tetsurou _ , his friend, his high school crush, and Kuroo—

—is kissing him back?

Kei makes a noise of surprise, eyes flying open, and the two of them break apart, but there’s no mistaking it. In the last second, Kuroo had kissed him back.

They stare at each other, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, and Kei is dimly aware that they’d just  _ kissed _ in front of the ridiculous flower wall, right in the open in front of over a hundred people. Not that anyone’s paying attention, thankfully, but holy shit. What was he thinking?

A sudden rise in boisterous laughter from a table full of drunk uncles in the back finally snaps them out of it; Kei feels the heat rising from the back of his neck and all the way up to his face. A sharp, painful panic strikes him like a lightning bolt. He tries to think of something, anything to say, but Kuroo beats him to it.

“Wait,” he says, strangled, and grabs Kei by the wrist.

“What?” Kei stammers, and Kuroo shakes his head. His eyes are blazing.

“Not here. Come—just come with me.”

They flee the hall before Kei could say another word, dodging tables, errant chairs, the wait staff zipping in and out of the doorway with platters of food, and out into the slightly emptier lobby. He doesn’t know if Kuroo actually knows where they’re going, but anywhere is better than the crowded reception hall.

They hurry past the bathrooms, around the corner, and Kuroo makes the decision to stop in a dim hallway leading to the closed onsen. He’s breathing hard, fingers tight around Kei’s wrist, and when he turns there’s an almost desperate look on his face.

“You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back,” Kei retorts instinctively, and immediately winces. He’s fucking this up so bad already, making everything worse than it already is.

“I know,” Kuroo whispers. He bites down on his lip. “You—did—did you—?”

“Mean it?” Kei asks. His heart is racing in his chest, pounding so loudly he’s certain Kuroo can hear him. One part of him is screaming in mortification but there’s another part that’s yelling at him, telling him not to let a second chance slip by again. He feels wild, like the ground might tilt beneath him at any given second. “Yes, I meant it. I meant one-hundred-percent of it, I want—I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”

Kuroo makes a wounded noise, deep in his throat, and grabs Kei by the shoulders. “You’re serious,” he breathes, like he barely believes it. “You’re serious? You want to kiss me?”

“You think I just go around kissing all my wedding dates?” Kei demands heatedly. “You moron, it’s not just about kissing, it’s—it’s because it’s you. It’s always you, it’s been you since  _ goddamn high school _ , don’t you get it? Even before all this wedding nonsense, all I’ve wanted was you from the very start!”

This time, it’s Kuroo who surges forward and kisses him, deep and desperate and without any reservations. Kei nearly buckles at the sudden shift in weight, but he doesn’t hesitate to throw his arms around Kuroo’s shoulders, dragging him impossibly close. The kiss is just a little too sharp and their teeth clack a little uncomfortably, but Kei’s heart is pounding in his chest. Whether it was from excitement or anticipation, he can’t tell.

“You’re telling me,” Kuroo pants, breaking apart for just a second, “that I could’ve had you since before I left for England?”

They kiss again, fast and harsh, and Kei barely manages to pull himself back with a slick-sounding  _ pop _ to look the other man in the eye.

“You could’ve had me since our first training camp in Tokyo together,” he retorts, and Kuroo groans, burying his face against Kei’s neck.

“ _ Fuck _ , Tsukki, you can’t just—just tell me these kinds of things like that. What the actual  _ fuck _ .”

“That makes the two of us,” Kei says, shaky, gripping Kuroo by the arms. He exhales, staring at the patterned wallpaper opposite him. “Hey, don’t you dare get sentimental on me right now, I’ve been waiting literal years to kiss you. I don’t have time for feelings right now.”

“Of course not,” Kuroo laughs, breathy and fond, and he turns his head so he could pepper kisses against Kei’s neck, up his jaw, on his cheekbone, and on the tip of his nose. Kei huffs, squirming at the ticklish sensations. “You’ve no idea how crazy this whole wedding date thing has been for me, Tsukki.”

Privately, Kei thinks he could relate. “I had to watch you get fitted for a suit,” he replies, moving his hands so he could grasp the dark red lapels in both fists, not caring about creasing the fabric in the least. “It was  _ torture _ .”

“Are you joking?” Kuroo asks. “Have you seen your ass in these pants? At least you had a heads up—I almost walked into the doorframe when I saw you this morning!”

“Then shouldn’t you do something about it?” Kei prompts, and grins when Kuroo’s eyes go dark.

“Don’t tempt me, Tsukki, we’re in public right now.”

That’s fair. The last thing he needs is for someone to walk in on them and for his aunt to find out. She’d go crazy.

“Later, then,” Kei says, and doesn’t miss the way Kuroo jolts minutely at that. “And talking. I think we should do some talking after too.”

“After,” Kuroo agrees. “But first… more kissing?”

“You’re impossible,” Kei says, but he’s already tugging Kuroo against him by his jacket, sealing his lips against the other man’s. Kuroo growls and buries a hand in Kei’s hair, messing up the minimal effort he’s put in to make it look presentable.

Kuroo kisses with a purpose now that he’s not in shock; he uses tongue, bites, and sucks on Kei’s lower lip in a way that makes his knees go weak. And Kei isn’t about to protest against any of that, not when they’re finally both on the same page. The fact that they could’ve been making out like this  _ years _ ago is a bit of a blow to his gut, but on the upside, he feels like they’re also justified to skip ahead of all the ‘first date’ and ‘getting to know each other’ bullshit new couples have to tiptoe around. Kei’s seen Kuroo do the stupidest shit known to man, seen him in only his underwear, witnessed him at the most chaotic point in his life—they’re entitled to a free pass after all that.

“I—can’t—believe—this,” Kuroo whispers between kisses. His hand is hot against the nape of Kei’s neck, hot where it’s pressed against the small of his back. “Tsukishima Kei  _ likes _ me.”

“Oh my god,” Kei chokes. “ _ Like _ you? I’m in fucking love with you, Kuroo.”

Kuroo’s hand slips; for a second, he looks like he’s just witnessed something incredible.

“You’re in love with me.”

“Yes.”

“You. Love  _ me _ .”

“If you make me repeat it one more time—”

Kuroo shakes his head. “No, no, I just—fuck, I’m so happy, Tsukki. You have no idea how happy I am right now. All this time, I convinced myself that I would’ve been content just catching up with you and being friends, but then you had to go and tear everything apart, didn’t you?”

“I figured you ought to know,” Kei whispers back, smiling as Kuroo cups his cheek. “Since I kissed you out of the blue at someone else's wedding, and all.”

“Ah, damn it, the wedding,” Kuroo sighs, tipping his head back. Kei can’t help it; he leans in and nips at the exposed expanse of skin, making Kuroo literally jerk against him. “Fuuuck—how much longer do we have to wait?”

“Maybe another hour, or two,” Kei hums. “Then we can head out, promise.”

“Ah, the fates are so cruel,” Kuroo says, straightening. His eyes gleam with something warm and deep, like he’s seeing Kei in a new light. “But what’s another hour to the past seven years?”

* * *

They barely make it over the threshold of Kei’s apartment before they’re all over each other again, kissing desperately, hands wandering, legs getting tangled as they stumble over shoes and socks in the entryway.

Kei barely manages to kick his door shut behind him before Kuroo bends, gripping him fiercely under the thighs, and Kei yelps as he’s lifted off his feet. His hands fly to Kuroo’s shoulders, squeezing the muscles beneath the suit, and huffs at Kuroo’s sneaky grin.

He narrowly avoids concussing himself on his door frame as Kuroo carries him into his darkened bedroom, trips over a discarded towel from practice, and all but drops Kei onto his bed.

“Whoops,” Kuroo laughs, out of breath and completely unapologetic.

“Watch it,” Kei snorts, yanking and tugging at Kuroo’s bowtie impatiently. Kuroo jerks, almost falling over top of him at a particularly hard tug.

“Hey! That’s new.”

“Yeah, and it better be on my bedroom floor in ten seconds or else it’s history.”

“Pushy,” Kuroo murmurs, brushing his lips against Kei’s temple. He’s a warm, solid weight from where he’s sitting between Kei’s legs, and Kei wants him even closer. “I thought we were gonna talk?”

“Really? You wanna talk right now? Right now?”

“You’re right,” Kuroo nods, managing to pull his bowtie, jacket, and waistcoat off in one go. “I’m the type who’ll stay and make breakfast the next morning anyway. I made a damn good omelette, you know.”

“Such a catch,” Kei deadpans, but all the sass in the world can’t stop his heart from beating out of his ribcage at the sight of Kuroo hovering above him, crisp white shirt untucked from his slacks, his hair an absolute disaster. He reaches up and brushes the strands that have escaped the hair gel to one side, and Kuroo turns his head, pressing his lips to Kei’s palm. Kei shivers when he feels something warm and wet slide over his hand, then between his fingers, and down to his wrist.

“God, I needed you in my pants yesterday.”

“Oh?” Kuroo grins. He tugs playfully at Kei’s belt. “Guess we better get these off then.”

Kei huffs and pushes Kuroo’s hands aside; his pants are already in a precarious situation given how tight they are, and he doesn’t want to risk them tearing. He’s only got one suit, after all.

Kuroo follows his lead and hastens to undo the many buttons on his shirt. The fabric crumples on the floor, sure to crease the next morning, but Kei couldn’t care less. Kuroo’s pants are coming off, and then he’s crawling forwards, hovering over Kei with his arms bracketing Kei’s head.

“You’re fucking incredible,” Kuroo whispers, and Kei grabs him by the back of the neck so they could kiss again. In the privacy of his bedroom, they’re free to kiss harder, faster with no risk of someone walking in on them. Kei has a feeling his brother (and probably Saeko) could tell something had shifted between them when they returned to the hall, but Kuroo chooses that moment to thumb at his hip and grind down against him, so all coherent thoughts fly out the window.

“Gorgeous,” Kuroo keeps on saying between kisses, between each shift of his hips. “Gorgeous, fuck, you’re so gorgeous.”

His palms are hot against Kei’s skin, long fingers splayed over his sides. Kei groans and tugs deliberately at Kuroo’s hair, making the other man tilt his head back, a soft sigh escaping his lips as Kei pushes himself up and sucks mark after mark into Kuroo’s neck, as though making up for all the lost years.

God damn, they could’ve been doing this  _ so _ long ago.

Kuroo closes his eyes, panting harshly. Kei holds him tightly, grinding desperately up against him. There’s no more rhythm, no more control—nothing but the two of them clutching desperately at each other. It’s a blinding, toe-curling sensation when he comes; Kei swears he stops breathing for a second. Kuroo follows half a second later, back shuddering beneath Kei’s palms, and then he collapses onto his elbows, barely stopping himself from crushing Kei.

“ _ Holy shit _ ,” he says, voice muffled against the pillow. Kei laughs, out of breath but not unkindly. He cards his fingers weakly through the sweaty strands of dark hair, and Kuroo mumbles something before he turns so he could press small, unhurried kisses against Kei’s cheek.

“All these years,” he whispers, lips all but a soft brush against Kei’s face.

“We’ve got a lot more ahead of us,” Kei whispers back, and feels Kuroo smile.

“That we do.”

* * *

The first thing he wakes up to is Kuroo’s warmth and weight over his side.

It isn’t the first time it’s happened, but this time, Kei has a feeling it won’t be the last.

He twists until he’s flat on his back, turning his head so he can watch Kuroo slowly rouse himself, blinking blearily until he’s more awake. The right side of his hair is mashed straight up, bangs crinkled from leftover hair gel, and Kei wants to laugh. He barely refrains from doing so, because he knows his hair is a mess too, but Kuroo seems to see right through him anyway.

“Don’t even start,” Kuroo yawns, voice gravelly from sleep. “You’ve always known how my hair is, now shaddup and cuddle me.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed you were a cuddler,” Kei smirks, feeling hands pawing at his sides until he turns to face the other man more clearly.

“Wouldn’t have guessed that I’d wake up in bed with you,” Kuroo grins, too wide and honest to be a tease. “But here we are.”

“Here we are,” Kei hums. He traces the pop of Kuroo’s bare collarbone with a fingertip, feeling the warmth beneath the skin, and relishing in the tiniest shiver that goes down Kuroo’s side. “I know we just woke up, but… we do have to talk.”

“Mm,” Kuroo nods, smushing his cheek against the pillow. Really, he has no business looking so soft. Kei wants to file a complaint. “Talk away, Tsukki. But I have one answer and one answer only.”

“And what might that be?”

“That I want this to last,” Kuroo breathes. He catches Kei’s hand against his chest, carefully lacing their fingers together. “This—this feeling, between us, that has been going on for years now apparently. I want it to last. I want to wake up to you every morning someday and get a cat with you and make you breakfast on weekends.”

“A cat, huh?” Kei says, feeling a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Mhm,” Kuroo nods. “Wanna take you out on dates, video chat with you after work, send you gifts and bring you to Tokyo to meet my mom sometime. And, ‘course, get on the court with you again and absolutely wipe you out.”

“Good luck with that,” Kei smirks. “You’re talking to a pro here, technically. Besides, isn’t it bad manners to trash talk your boyfriend right as you start dating?”

Kuroo grins at him then, wide and boyishly cute, teasing jab long forgotten as he radiates happiness at Kei’s words.

They crawl out of bed not long after that, crowd into the shower together, and wash up after a truly wild night. Kei laughs at Kuroo’s hair, lying wet and flat over his face for once, and offers to blow dry it until it goes back to some semblance of what it normally looks like.

He’s sitting at the kitchen table later, wearing Kuroo’s crumpled shirt and sleep pants, stirring milk into his coffee as he swipes through the barrage of notifications on his phone. The majority of them are from the group chat, much to his chargain.

**_bby birb squad aka karasuno forever_ **

**_SHOYOU 8:42am_ **

_ sooo is it just me or is anyone else DYING to know how Kei’s family wedding went? _

_ wink wink wink _

**_Kageyama Tobio 8:43am_ **

_ Just you _

**_SHOYOU 8:43am_ **

_ come and say that to my FACE _

_ @Tsukishima.K give us the deets _

**_YamaGUCCI 8:44am_ **

_ Lmao ur just gonna tick him off _

**_Kageyama Tobio 8:44am_ **

_ stop being nosy and get out of bed _

**_SHOYOU 8:45am_ **

_ i pity the lot of u _

_ where yall admit defeat, i smell opportunity _

**_Kageyama Tobio 8:45am_ **

_ Keep that energy up the next time he stuffs you in a 3 on 3 _

**_YamaGUCCI 8:46am_ **

_ LMAO _

**_Hitoka 8:47am_ **

_ It’s funny, Kei’s usually up by now _

_ -eye emojis- _

**_YamaGUCCI 8:47am_ **

_ holy shit ur right _

_ u dont think…? _

**_Hitoka 8:47am_ **

_ ^^;; _

_ That’s… too much of a coincidence, right? _

**_SHOYOU 8:48am_ **

_ SEE? SEE?? THANK U HITOKA _

_ @Tsukishima.K wake uppppppp _

**_SHOYOU 8:48am_ **

_ @Tsukishima.K deets deets deets _

**_SHOYOU 8:48am_ **

_ @Tsukishima.K DID U OR DID U NOT BANG KUROO PLS RESPOND _

Tobio is right, Kei decides. The next time they play, he’s gonna stuff Shoyou into a volleyball cart and call it a day.

“Hey,” Kuroo calls, catching his attention. “Mushrooms okay for your omelette?”

“Yes please,” Kei nods, and catches a truly delicious whiff of the ham, cheese, and veggie omelettes and the buttered toast heating up on the other side of the pan. He raises his phone and takes a quick picture of Kuroo at the stove, twirling the spatula in his hand and wearing nothing but low-slung sweatpants, the elastic of his boxer briefs peeking out on top. He sends it to the group chat with a smirk.

**_bby birb squad aka karasuno forever_ **

**_Tsukishima.K 9:00am_ **

_ [image attachment] _

**_Hitoka 9:01am_ **

_!!! _

**_YamaGUCCI 9:01am_ **

_ fsfjsksmlm Kei?!?!?! _

**_Kageyama Tobio 9:01am_ **

_ bro did you maul him or something?? holy shit _

**_SHOYOU 9:01am_ **

_ OHHH MYYY GODDD _

_ first of all WOW ok ok ok here we go boys _

_ second of all I KNEW IT _

**_YamaGUCCI 9:02am_ **

_ im dying scoob _

**_Hitoka 9:02am_ **

_ I can confirm, Tadashi is on the kitchen floor yelling rn _

_ congrats, Kei! I’m glad you guys worked it out! ^^ _

**_YamaGUCCI 9:02am_ **

_ we are going for drinks asap and on god ur gonna tell us everything Tsukishima Kei _

**_Kageyama Tobio 9:03am_ **

_ pass. that picture says more than enough. _

**_SHOYOU 9:03am_ **

(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧  _ atta boy Kei fUCKIN. GET. IT. _

“Who’re you talking to?” Kuroo asks, swinging over with the plates of food. Kei grins and puts his phone down, making room for breakfast, but not before muting the chat.

“Just a couple of busybodies I call my friends,” he says. His mouth waters at the sight of all the food. “Looks great.”

“Only the best for my boyfriend,” Kuroo winks, and slides into the seat across from Kei.

_ Boyfriend _ .

Yeah, that has a very nice ring to it.

* * *

Dating Kuroo isn’t all that different from how they’ve been talking and interacting for the last two months or so, and that alone makes something finally settle with ease in Kei’s heart. It’s almost like a confirmation, that the two of them are good together, that their friendship is still solid and whole despite the unintended break. The distance is harder now that the gates have opened and things like kissing and touching and incredibly hot makeouts are on the table, but it’s consoling to know that he isn’t alone in his feelings.

“Man, I wish we lived closer to each other,” Kuroo sighs one night over video call, cheek squished against the hand propping his face up. He’s at home, done work for the day, and going over apartment listings. Kei catches glimpses of Kuroo’s childhood bedroom every now and then; old volleyball and band posters on the wall, plastic models of molecule structures, and pictures of Kuroo and his mother together throughout the years. “How was practice?”

“Not bad,” Kei hums. It’s gotten colder now that they’ve officially made it through to December, and he spends most of his trips home in the dark with the shorter daylight times. “Aggravated an old sprain on my left index finger, though, so I have to go home and ice it.”

“Whaaat? Tsukki! You gotta be more careful!”

“You’re the last person I ever want to hear that from. You almost broke your wrist in your fourth year, I didn’t forget that.”

“Okay, but, to be fair, I was also young and reckless.”

“As opposed to old and cautious now? Hah.”

“You’re changing the topic,” Kuroo accuses, but he lets it go, and updates Kei on some of the new places he’s been looking up. So far, a few apartments have caught his eye, and from what Kei can understand they’re all functional and marginally less bank-breaking than some other places.

“Why don’t you make a bid for one, if they’re all about the same?” he asks as he shoulders his way back into his apartment. His hand is cold from holding up his phone despite his gloves, and it’s a welcome change in temperature indoors.

“I will, soon,” Kuroo says. “I was kinda wondering if you wanted to come down and visit again during the break? Maybe take a look at some of the places I have marked down?”

“You want me to look with you?” Kei asks, surprised.

“Want your approval,” Kuroo grins. He looks so warm, bundled up in a fuzzy, soft grey turtleneck with too-long sleeves that dip past his wrists. Sweater paws on a grown-ass, six-foot tall man shouldn’t be so damn  _ cute _ .

“You’ve seen where I live,” Kei snorts. “I’m not very picky.”

“Yeah, but I’m also hoping I’ll get to have you over at least a few times a year, so if I’m gonna front a lot of money for an apartment, it better be one my boyfriend likes.”

That almost makes Kei trip over nothing, and he glares at his phone, flustered, as Kuroo laughs and laughs.

“Shut up, you.”

“Ah, sorry, sorry,” Kuroo chuckles. “But I’m serious. That, and I just want another excuse to hang out with you again.”

“You don’t have to make excuses for that,” Kei says. He chucks his jacket over the sofa and shakes his hair free from under his hat so Kuroo can’t see the flush in his cheeks as he talks. “You know I’d always come see you when I can.”

“Aw, Tsukki,” Kuroo whines, pouting at him through the screen, and Kei smiles.

“Stop that, you aren’t five. Tell me about the places you want to look at.”

Their evening continues like that, with Kei quietly making dinner in the kitchen and Kuroo holding up different pictures and sheets of paper up to his phone, laughing when Kei makes a sarcastic comment about the layout. It’s like their other nights together, spent talking and snickering and living through the most mundane aspects of their lives.

But even the most mundane becomes something nice when spent with your significant other.

* * *

The stadium is packed for a Sunday afternoon despite the first snowfall of the year. The fresh, light dusting covers the pathway and parking lot as they hustle indoors, eager to get out of the cold. Music is blaring, spectators are milling around the food stands in packs, and everyone else is already sitting around the VIP section of the Black Jackals’ section.

“Kei! You’re late,” Tadashi shouts. “Hey, Kuroo-san!”

“Practice went over time,” Kei grunts, stepping over a row of seats with his long legs so he could drop into the empty spot next to his friend. That, and Kuroo had been hanging out at his place, and Kei had to go home to take a shower, and Kuroo followed him into said shower, and, well. They’re here now and that’s what matters, right?

Kuroo waves at the others with a broad grin as he settles in too, thanking Hitoka when she offers them both drinks. On her right is Tobio, who’s sitting ramrod-straight, glaring out at the court and looking weirdly constipated. To Kei’s surprise, sitting in the seat beside Tobio is a girl who looks about high school-aged. Her long hair is a very familiar shade of bright orange.

“Tsukishima-san!” Natsu waves, grinning. “Ah! Is that Kuroo-san with you?”

“Hi, Natsu,” Kei says. “Shoyou’s younger sister,” he adds to Kuroo, who  _ ahh _ ’s in instant understanding.

“No kidding, for a second I thought she was shorty with a wig on.”

Tadashi laughs and Natsu makes a face.

“I don’t look  _ anything _ like my dorky older brother!”

“Not at all,” Kuroo says agreeably, and Kei elbows him lightly in the ribs.

“Don’t tease her, she made the starting lineup in Karasuno’s rugby team this year. She can and  _ will _ bodyslam you.”

The whistle blows on the court, signalling the end of warmups. Shoyou is talking animatedly with his teammates, but when he spots them sitting in the stands he waves excitedly, bouncing happily on his feet.

“Big brother!” Natsu screams with the same Hinata-styled energy, waving back.

Tobio makes a noise like a computer shutting down and lifts his arm robotically.

Kei squints. “What the hell’s wrong with him? He looks like he’s about to puke.”

“Ahh, that,” Tadashi smirks, and then leans over to whisper to them. “You know how Shoyou really wanted us to all come because he’s on track to get his 100th official game point as a pro?”

“Yeah?” Kei definitely knows this; Shoyou hasn’t shut up about it in the group chat for weeks now.

Tadashi jerks his thumb at Tobio. “He’s going to propose after the game, if Shoyou gets it.”

“Oh my  _ god _ ,” Kuroo whispers, absolutely delighted, and Kei chokes on air.

“No way. No fuckin’ way.”

“ _ Yes _ way,” Tadashi laughs. “Miwa-san couldn’t make it, but that’s why Natsu’s here too! And why Tobio kinda looks like he wants to die on the spot—he wants Shoyou to get the point but also at the same time if he does, he’s gotta propose.”

“What the hell happens if he doesn’t?”

“Slander!” Kuroo cries, bopping Kei on the head. “You can’t jinx them like that! The Black Jackals are still on a win streak!”

“Well, we’re all going to dinner tonight to celebrate, aren’t we?” Tadashi shrugs. “That was the backup.”

“If you’re all done gossiping about me over there,” Tobio snaps from his seat.

“You are a sucker,” Kei declares, and smirks at the heated glare Tobio shoots his way. He can tell it’s just nerves, though, which is hilarious because the man’s been to the goddamn Olympics before, but of course it’s Hinata Shoyou who finally does him in.

“Oi!”

“Stop it, you two!” Hitoka says, waving her hands. “We gotta cheer Shoyou on! For obvious reasons. Also, you’re all grumpy because you’re just hungry. Tadashi, where’s the onigiri?”

“You kids,” Kuroo sniffs, pretending to wipe away a tear. “You’re all grown up now. Kenma is gonna flip when he finds out.”

“We’re not that much younger,” Kei grumbles around a mouthful of rice, and Kuroo laughs, slinging his arm around Kei’s waist so he could pull him close.

“Nah, you’re all still baby chicks to me,” he chuckles. There’s a warm, nostalgic look in his eye as he gazes out at the court, taking in the flare of the lights, the squeaks of shoes against the floor, and the shouts of the players. The Black Jackals’ captain steps up for the first serve. “We’ll have to play together again someday, you and I.”

“Mm,” Kei hums. The notion makes something unfurl inside his chest, eager and happy. “Against each other, or on the same side?”

“Hmm...both,” Kuroo smiles. “Both sounds good.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Kei replies, and he means it. He leans in and presses a soft kiss against Kuroo’s lips, relishing in the warmth, the fresh scent of shampoo, and the gentle way Kuroo kisses back. He’s Kei’s now, at long last, and it’s such a good, happy feeling.

The game is spectacular—it’s tight, nail-bitingly so, with the score seesawing back and forth. The other team has a solid defence but Bokuto is on fire today, and racks up point after point with his insane cross shot. They scream themselves hoarse as the rallies drag on and the plays grow even more outrageous. Once, Miya even had to leap over the commentators’ table to keep an errant ball alive.

The whistle signalling the Black Jackals’ victory had never sounded better; they’re on their feet in an instant, cheering, though Tobio looks like he’s forgotten how to breathe at this point.

“You gotta get over there, Tobio-san!” Natsu cries, pushing him out of his seat and towards the court. “Quick! Quick!”

“Urgh,” Tobio says, wobbling on his feet. He almost trips over a step as he stumbles down to courtside.

“Oh my god, oh my god, this is really happening,” Hitoka whispers excitedly, clutching at Tadashi’s arm.

Tobio walks over to the advertisement barricade, one hand stuffed tightly into his jacket pocket, and waits. Shoyou is just finishing up the lineups and handshakes, but the second he spots Tobio he doesn’t waste a second sprinting over to his boyfriend, barely managing to snatch a sports drink from a passing volunteer as he runs.

“Tobio! Didya see that?! My last hit? My 100th point? Atsumu-san’s set? And how it went like  _ fwwwip _ and  _ baaam _ and then we all went  _ gwahh _ ?!”

Tobio nods, and they watch as he plays along, listening to Shoyou, who’s practically vibrating with excitement as he speaks. Then, when Shoyou finally pauses to take a gulp of air, Tobio points to the court, momentarily distracting his boyfriend with the score, steps over the advertising barricade, and goes down on one knee.

Shoyou blinks, turns, looks down, and drops his water bottle.

There’s a terse moment where the thud seemed to reverberate around everyone still on the court, and all eyes land on the pair like magnets snapping together. They’re a bit far, but Kei can still make out the words:

_ Shoyou, marry me? _

Shoyou yells, and  _ jumps _ —literally launches himself from a standing position into the air. Tobio leaps to his feet, and barely manages to catch Shoyou in time as he falls. They stagger back, Tobio yelling in surprise and Shoyou blubbering a litany of  _ yes yes yes _ and  _ oh my GOD _ at his boyfriend—no, fiancé now.

“Wait,  _ what? _ ” Miya splutters, absolutely flabbergasted.

“Hold on—did you guys just see—”

“Is that  _ Kageyama Tobio _ —”

“Did he just propose?!”

The gym is pure mayhem; cameras flash, Shoyou’s teammates appear to be losing their minds collectively, and Tadashi has burst into tears. Natsu and Hitoka fare no better, clinging to each other as they scream, and the buzz of the crowd has grown to an excited chatter and a swell of excited applause.

But down on the court, Tobio and Shoyou have eyes for no one but each other. Shoyou is still wrapped around Tobio like a koala, their foreheads pressed together. Shoyou says something, and Tobio smiles, a real, wide smile, and they kiss, quick and sweet.

Kei doesn’t even bother hiding his own grin, reaching down so he could grab Kuroo’s hand with his own. Kuroo squeezes back, strong and warm and happy.

There’ll be another wedding soon, and knowing both Tobio and Shoyou it’ll be a crazy, all-out ceremony, with every single volleyball player they’ve ever met in the last decade or so in attendance, probably even more yelling and waterworks, and vows made in the most dramatic fashion.

But Kei’s looking forward to it.

After all, he thinks, glancing sidelong at a laughing Kuroo, who’s whistling at the newly engaged couple around his fingers, he’s got the perfect wedding date already.

_ End _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I don’t really know if volleyball players keep track of their points, but I know hockey players will celebrate point milestones sooo… it’s about the same, right??
> 
> It's been a fun one! This is also a story that I've been slowly chipping away at for a while (sadly I cannot believe we _still_ don't have a Kuroo update omg) but I'm glad it's finally seen the light of day. I hope you guys enjoyed it!
> 
> Thank you so very much for the lovely comments and kudos; I really appreciate the time you guys took to read and leave behind feedback! ^^
> 
> keep safe y'all!

**Author's Note:**

> tobio, in the group chat: can someone pick me up? shoyou sounds like a goblin right now and I don’t like it.
> 
> even tho his mom seems like a perfectly sweet lady, I took a bit of creative liberty with Tsukishima's family for the sake of the story (nothing crazy dramatic though!)
> 
> thank you for reading!


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